Pressure On All Sides
by Lyra Silvertongue2
Summary: Here's the plot: there's a new girl, Greta, who's been livin' on the street since she was a kid. She doesn't know anything about her past (or 'bout reading), and Evan likes her (that's right). Chapter 16 up! Greta finally finds out about her past! R&R!
1. The Chase

Hello, all, and thank you for coming to my fanfic! I really hope you enjoy it, it's taken a bit of work. Anywho, that's all I really have to say. On with the fanficcery!  
  
Chapter One: The Chase  
  
Greta paused in her steps at an entrance to an old alleyway, leaning over with her hands on her knees and taking deep breaths. Quickly, she glanced to the left to see if, by some miracle, she had managed to outrun them. No luck. She could still see the bright red hair and the glint of moving wheels in the moonlight down the dark street to her left. Still facing the alleyway, she turned her head to the right. As she started to regain her breath, she peered into the gloom of the darkened road. The pavement was glistening from the recent rain, and steam billowed up from the sewer grates. Greta's eyes narrowed as she scanned for some familiar place that she could duck into for shelter. There was none. So she focused on the alley in front of her.  
  
The ground in the narrow gap between buildings was filthy. There was at least a five-inch layer of green muck to wade through if she went that way.  
  
_Heaven knows where it *came* from_ Greta thought as she took another slowing gulp of air. She glanced to the left again. They were close enough now that she could make out what they really looked like, now. Not that she wanted to. In fact, she thought she had seen enough of them throughout the duration of their little 'chase.' At this point, she was getting rather desperate.  
  
_Oh, to be curled up at the subway station right now_  
  
Greta sighed. There were only two options left for her to take; she could either run into the street to her right, prolonging the chase...or she could take the mucky alleyway to (hopefully) her salvation.  
  
_Definitely the alleyway._  
  
Greta concentrated and held her hands out flat by her sides, arms fully extended, with her palms parallel to the ground. She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow, concentrating on signaling that...little pulse...from her brain to her hands. When she opened her eyes again, she was 'floating' about a half a foot above the ground. Her face remained knitted in concentration as she began to walk forward, above the slime. It became easier as she went along, but she still made sure to keep her steps steady.  
  
_Ugh, imagine falling down into this stuff in the middle. No, wait! Don't, you'll lose your concentration._  
  
Breathing a sigh of relief, Greta stepped down from her 'perch' in the air. She peered over her shoulder behind her. Sometimes she just couldn't believe what she could do. She had left near-parallel tracks in the muck behind her, right below where her hands had been.  
  
_Oh, *crap*._ She thought. _His wheelchair will probably be just the right width for him to go through those *tracks* I laid out for him. Grrr, no time to think about that now. Gotta keep movin'. Maybe I can get to Agnes's house in time..._  
  
Greta darted quickly to her left and went down a couple more alleyways. Fortunately, these were *not* coated with slime. In what seemed like the knick of time, she reached Agnes's house. Agnes was an old lady that Greta sometimes spoke to. She knew the ways of the street, and would occasionally teach Greta a trick or two about getting by. In exchange, Greta would provide good companionship and ridiculous stories about some of the people whom she had seen in the subways of New York City.  
  
"Agnes," she panted, pushing aside the grimy curtain. "I need somewhere to crash for awhile. Can I-"  
  
She stopped. There was no-one in Agnes's shelter. Of course, it had just rained! The shelter was sopping wet!  
  
_Ugh, I'm such an *idiot*!_  
  
A surprisingly loud voice came from behind her: "You are most definitely *not* an idiot, Greta."  
  
She gasped nearly inaudibly and turned around. Then she froze.  
  
Not because she was scared, but because, all of a sudden, she couldn't move.  
  
Greta strained against the force that held her, fighting with all her might. Fear threatened to take over her body, but she fought it, too. Then she threw all her strength into trying to turn around and run.  
  
No luck.  
  
Next she put all her force into trying to lash out at the two figures in front of her, one standing, one sitting. As she fought, she noticed that all four eyes before her were closed, and two foreheads were creased. The redhead appeared to be biting her lip.  
  
After awhile, Greta stopped fighting, exhausted. The two in front of her relaxed visibly, and the bald guy opened his eyes. The redhead stopped biting her lip, but she looked like she was still concentrating on something. Greta found that she could move her face, and narrowed her eyes at the bald man, who was looking directly into her eyes.  
  
"Who are you guys? Cops? Do you want my money or something? Are you..." an idea dawned on her. "Are you guys looking to get off on me or somethin'? 'Cause I *will* fight you, no matter *what*."  
  
Greta didn't want to ask about her name: she didn't want to give them any information about herself. They wouldn't know for sure that it *was* her name unless she told them. And she didn't even want to *think* about how he had known what she was thinking.  
  
"Greta..." Greta tried not to flinch. "We want to *help* you. We know who you are, and we know what you've been trying to hide from your friends." Greta kept her face blank. "We know that you're a mutant..." Greta fought to keep her features impassive, but her eyes widened a little bit. "...and we want to offer you a more...permanent home for you. A better home than the streets. We can offer you an education, and good food every day. Now-"  
  
"Why do you wanna help me so bad?" Greta blurted. _Ahh, what a dope! I just gave myself *away*!_  
  
"We want to help you...because we are like you, Greta. Now, could you please stop insulting yourself? A smart girl like you should know better." At this, her eyes widened further.  
  
_Can you read my mind or somethin'?_ She tested.  
  
_Yes, Greta. *Now* do you believe we want to help you?_  
  
Greta gasped quietly. She *knew* she hadn't cooked up that voice in her head. That had been *him*.  
  
"Jean is going to release you now. Will you promise not to run?" said the bald guy quietly.  
  
"I'm not promisin' anythin'."  
  
The bald guy nodded, but Greta guessed it was just for show. The redhead opened her eyes slowly and looked up, and Greta felt the invisible force holding her go slack. She stayed put. The bald guy smiled, steepled his hands together, and began:  
  
"My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and I run a boardinghouse for mutants..."  
  
***  
  
So whaddaya think? Is it cool? Is it stupid? I wanna know what you think! So review, consarnit! Oh, and don't worry, there's *tons* more to come. This is just the *introduction*. Check back soon! 


	2. Waking Up

Okay, only one response from an adoring fan. That's okay. I'll just have to continue and hope that *maybe* someone *else* will review. Hmph.  
  
Chapter Two: Waking Up  
  
Greta had never owned anything before. A drunk she had met in her days on the street had once told her:  
"Never get attached to anything. They'll just take it away. If you want my advice (hic), *borrow* everything you use, and when you're done with it, return it."  
Then he had taken a swig of whatever alcoholic beverage he had been holding in his hand.  
Knowing that it was good advice, Greta had put it onto her list of policies. She followed all of her policies faithfully, so she had never owned anything. Well, to say that she had never owned *anything* would be false, really. Although she didn't own the clothes she wore, or the food she ate, she had one thing to call her own. She always kept it in her shirt pocket (she usually wore whatever she could find, and what she usually found was men's clothing, oddly enough), where she knew it would be safe. It was a little, folded business card, and she knew the text on it by heart, since she couldn't read it directly:  
"Dr. Daniel Gallagher, Ph.D.  
Gallagher offices  
431-0968"  
It was a very cheaply-printed business card. To tell the truth, it was hardly even a business card; it looked like it had been printed out of someone's cheap office computer, sometime in the late eighties. Greta had paid someone to dial the number for her with some change she had found on the sidewalk, but the voice on the line had answered in Spanish. So she had gotten one of her literate friends to look up the name Daniel Gallagher in a phone book in a trashy motel (she had been pretty surprised that the motel had even *had* a phone book, considering the state the lobby was in). Apparently, he had an unlisted number. Maybe that was why he had printed the business card in the first place.   
Greta didn't know where the business card had come from, or who had given it to her. All she knew was that she had had it for as long as she could remember, and that it was very important to her. So she kept it safe, and hidden from everyone. And it was the only thing that she had ever called her own.  
  
Standing at the doorway to an impeccably clean room, Greta couldn't help but notice, for the first time in years, that she was *filthy*. She looked down at her torn clothes and ragged sneakers. Lifting up a leg, she stared at the rubber soles on her shoes. She had never noticed all the things stuck to them. Not daring to sniff herself, for fear that it would separate her from her surroundings further, Greta turned to the person beside her. The red- No, that wasn't right.   
_Her name is Jean,_ Greta reminded herself. _She wants to help you._  
Greta turned to Jean, who had been watching Greta the entire fifteen minutes that she had been staring into *her* new room. There was no change in facial expression, but, of course, Jean could hear what she was thinking.  
"We can get you some new clothes," Jean offered. "Would you like to take a bath?"  
Greta nodded once, and looked once more into the sparkling room before following Jean down the hallway to the bathroom.  
  
***  
  
As she stepped into the bathtub filled with *scalding* water, Greta almost immediately slipped on the soap at the bottom. She fell in with a SQUEAK! and a huge thump!.   
"Greta? Are you okay in there?" Jean's voice came through the door and the massive amount of steam clouding the bathroom.  
"Yeah," said Greta quietly, unused to speaking to *nice* people.  
"What?!"  
"Yeah!" said Greta, loudly this time.  
"Are you sure?!" Jean was yelling, now. "Do you need any help?!"  
"Uhhh..."  
"What?!"  
Greta gave it a second of thought. "I guess I could use some! Come on in!"  
  
When Jean opened the door, a cloud of steam flowed out near the top. Jean slipped in quickly and shut the door behind her, and peered through the massive amounts of steam to the figure in the bathtub. Well, more accurately, the *head* in the bathtub.  
_I guess she found my bubblebath,_ Jean laughed lightly to herself. "I haven't seen so many bubbles since *Kurt* did the *laundry,*" Jean said, laughing a little louder this time.  
"Who's Kurt?"  
"One of the people here at the institute. You'll meet him later." Jean laughed again, and pulled a chair up beside the clawed bathtub. "So, what do you need help with?" Now that Jean was closer to the girl, she could see the expression on her face. There was none. Jean raised her eyesbrows slightly as Greta did nothing but tilt her head up lightly before she began to speak.  
"Everything."  
"Everything? Okay, uh...what do you want to start with?"  
Greta lifted her hand out of the bubbles and pointed at the row of bottles on the shelf opposite her. "What are those? All I know is the bubble bath."  
_Oh, *wow*. When the Professor said this girl would be uneducated, he wasn't *kidding*._ "Alright, uh...this is the shampoo, this is conditioner, and this is body wash," Jean said, indicating the bottles. Greta blinked slowly at Jean. Jean could hear her think: _What?_ in utter confusion. "Um, shampoo and conditioner are for your hair. You put the shampoo in first, rinse it out, and then put in some conditioner to make your hair soft."  
There was no change in Greta's facial expression as she said "Oh. Thank you." _You can leave now._  
Jean took the hint. "Um, there are instructions on the bottles, if you need them." Greta just looked at her. "The soap's over there-" she pointed to the empty soap dish. "Oh, I guess it isn't. There are clean clothes by the sink, if you haven't seen them already. Well, uh, anyway, I'll leave you to your bath now."  
_Well, that wasn't awkward at all,_ Jean thought sarcastically as she exited the bathroom. As she closed the door, she caught one last look at Greta reaching over to the shampoos, her face blank. _I wonder why she doesn't react to what I'm saying. Besides speaking, I mean. Oh, well._ Jean walked down the hall. Maybe she could talk to the Professor about that later.  
  
***  
  
Greta lay in the bathtub with her head rested on the edge. She stared at the ceiling. Then she realized.  
She wasn't on the streets anymore.  
And someone cared that she was alive.  
She lay for more than a few moments, thinking about it. To no longer have to fend for her life every day. To have food, in one of those fabled refrigerators. Clothes in a dresser. A room of her own. To go to school. To learn to read. To have a purpose in life, other than survival. To have a reason to smile. To have...friends. To have (dare she think it?) family.  
_A family._  
Greta held back the tears, then realized that she had no one to hide them from anymore. She let them go, and cried silently for a few minutes, taking it all in. Then she wiped her eyes, laughed at herself (oh, to laugh!), picked up a bottle of shampoo, and tried to figure out exactly what to do with the goop inside.  
  
After about an hour in the tub, and at least another hour and a half trying to figure out all the hygiene products in the bathroom, Greta felt she was about ready to take a look at herself. She turned to the full-length mirror on the door and stared herself down.  
_Not bad,_ she thought. _Not bad. I could use a haircut, I guess. Maybe I'll cut it up to my shoulders. I wonder what it's like to get a *real* haircut, in a 'salon' and all._ The clothes were a tad big on her, but that was okay, she was used to clothes that didn't fit. She wasn't sure she had the bra on quite right, though. She'd never worn one before, and sincerely hoped that they weren't all as uncomfortable as this one (Note: her hopes are going to be trodden upon. *All* bras are uncomfortable. You just have to get used to them.). She smoothed her shirt down in the front, and tucked her still-drying hair behind her ears. After staring at her reflection for a few more minutes, she started when it hit her that her eyes were brown. _How come I never noticed that before?_ Her eyes narrowed as she reprimanded herself for not realizing it sooner. Her reflection glared back at her, and she giggled.  
_Well. Time to go face the music. Gotta do it sooner or later. I wonder who else is in this crazy place. I wonder if they'll like me._ And with that, Greta reached for the knob, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the hallway.  
  
***  
  
So whaddaya think? Not bad, eh? Hmm?   
Yo, I wanna send out a shoutout to my peep, Scribbler! 'Sup, homie?! Oh, thank you so much for reviewing, I thought that nobody liked me. (Note to Scribbler: It's not that I like Phillip Pullman all that much, I just really like the name...and the first book. Tee-hee-hee.)  
Listen, there's *so much more* coming, I don't even want to think about it. But it will only come if you review, you see. And it will get *much* better. In the next chapter, she meets everybody, and starts to develop her skills (and not just her powers, her thinking skills, too). So please review! 


	3. Introductions

Sorry it took me so long to update. I was...preoccupied (bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha- hee-hee-hee). Anywho, just wanted to let all of you people out there know (just wanted to let you five people out there know...) that I'm sorry, and I'll probably update more frequently from now on. Okay, I'll shut up now.  
  
***  
  
Chapter Three: Introductions  
  
***  
  
Through the door, Greta could hear what seemed like all the people in the institute bustling around. Her hand lingered on the doorknob, her eyes out of focus, as she listened. After about ten seconds of what seemed like normal activity, she turned the knob slowly and pushed the heavy wooden door open a crack. Now she could see a small slice of what was going on. It seemed like everyone was just coming in from school.  
  
School. Now there was a thought. Greta had wondered what a school had looked like up until she was twelve, when she had actually taken a chance and gone inside one. The halls had been so *empty-looking,* and echoey (Note: Is that a word? I dunno, I think it is, and I'm gonna use it), and the lockers had been so *different* than the ones she had seen in her brief visit to the YMCA. She had been wandering the halls, just staring in awe at the shiny floors and the classrooms filled with children learning that she jumped about two feet into the air when a teacher had asked her if she was lost. The instant she landed, she had fled. It had taken her a week to get over her grudge for that one teacher: how dare she scare her like that? Just when she was starting to get used to her surroundings.  
  
Greta was still peeking through the crack in the door when she realized someone was looking back at her. Black eyes...  
  
Jumping back, Greta pressed her back against the wall beside the door. She dropped her head against the wall behind her and silently cursed her nerves. She shouldn't be that jumpy. She was among *friends* now.  
  
Evan had just been sitting in the living room, silent for a change from his usual demeanor, loud and obnoxious, when he had heard the side door open. That door was hardly ever used; it led to one of the back halls. Curious, he turned his head and looked past the couch, where Kurt was helping Kitty with what appeared to be her chemistry homework, and past the chair by the fire, where Scott and Jean were roasting their toes, to see that the door had been opened a tiny bit. Evan leaned forward a bit in the armchair, putting his chin in his hand. He could just see the glint of what appeared to be brown eyes, and the unrecognizable gleam of wet, newly- combed hair. Suddenly, the eyes (and hair) disappeared behind the door, and Evan blinked, startled. Jean, sensing his bewilderment, turned around in her chair and met his eyes. He gestured with his head toward the side door. Jean's mouth formed a silent 'Oh,' and she stood up and headed for the (Note: infamous, now) side door.  
  
Greta was hardly surprised to see Jean come through the door. "Hello," she said quietly.  
  
"Hello, Greta," Jean said brightly. "I thought you would've been asleep by now."  
  
Greta shook her head slightly. "No."  
  
"Oh," continued Jean, unphased. "Well, would you like to meet some of the people you'll be living with here at the institute? I could introduce you to them now."  
  
"Okay." Soft as ever. Jean started to turn back towards the door; her hand was still resting on the knob, when she turned back.  
  
"By the way, how is it that you came to *this* door? It's hardly ever used, see, and..."  
  
"Um, I...I just turned right when I came out of the bathroom, and..." came the reply, soft as ever.  
  
"Oh, okay. Well, let's go, then!" Jean opened the door and stepped through. The people in the room seemed to sense that she was going to make an announcement. The couple on the couch stopped talking, and all faces in the room seemed to face the red-headed figure in the door. Greta peeked through the space between Jean and the wall, her hand on the doorframe. "Everyone, I want you to meet Greta. She was just recruited this morning." Jean turned around to look at Greta, smiling. Greta slowly stepped out of the dim hallway and into the well-lit living room. Her head was tilted down at the floor, and the only thing she lifted was her eyes to peer around at the occupants of the room.  
  
Slightly surprised at Jean's announcement, Evan stared at the new girl in the doorframe. She was a few inches shorter than he was, it seemed, but it was hard to tell because of the way her head was turned down towards the floor. It was almost like she didn't want people to see her face. He could tell from the way she held herself that she was shy, and unaccustomed to so much attention. Evan took in the features he could see: brown eyes, straight brown hair...her hair was combed, but the part was most definitely not straight. The split ends of her hair lay on her shoulders, just reaching them. The clothes she was wearing, which seemed to be some of Jean's, were slightly big on her; her hands were covered by the sleeves, and you could just see the ends of the plain white socks she wore poking out from underneath the baggy khakis. There were freckles dotted lightly across her nose. Evan found his eyes drawn back to hers, and it took him a moment to realize that she was staring straight back at him. His cheeks flushed, and he looked back at the floor.  
  
"Like, hi Greta! I'm Kitty! It's great to meet you." Kitty bounced across the room, high pigtail flying behind her as she broke the short silence that had descended over the room. She stuck out her hand toward the newbie and Greta was a little uncertain of what to do as she grasped Kitty's hand lightly. Kitty didn't even notice, jubilantly shaking Greta's hand with a big grin on her face. Greta had to smile at Kitty's exuberance. How often did you meet someone that excited about a new person, after all?  
  
_Especially a new person like me._  
  
Scott saw the barest hint of a smile appear on Greta's face as Kitty shook her hand. He tried on his biggest welcoming smile as he, Kurt, and Evan moved a little closer to the new girl.  
  
"Like, you are sooo going to like it here! You get all the *coolest* privileges, and, like, the *biggest* room, and...wait, which room is yours?" Kitty didn't wait for her to respond. "I bet you got the room next to mine and Rogue's. Have you, like, met Rogue yet? Ooh," she squealed. "and have you seen the *pool*? It's the coolest! Once it, like, warms up outside and stuff, you *have* to go swimming with us! You are going to just, like-"  
  
"My name's Scott," he cut her off, bumping her out of the way and sticking out his hand for Greta to shake. She took his hand gingerly. "I'm the leader of the X-Men," he said, just a little too proudly. "I'm sure you'll fit in well here-"  
  
"Hey, have you, like, seen the danger room yet? It's so-" Kurt put a hand on her shoulder, quieting her down. Scott stepped aside and let Kurt step into the little circle.  
  
"Guten tag." Greta reached for his hand, but he pulled back. "Listen, before we shake hands, I have to show you something." Unless you paid careful attention, you couldn't see Greta's puzzled expression. Kurt, however, picked up on it. "I, uh, don't really look like this, you see," he explained carefully. "I don't mean to scare you, but-" he turned off his image inducer. "This is me. Mein name is Kurt Wagner."  
  
Scott could see Greta's eyes widen slightly, but then that tiny little smile appeared on her face again. She reached out and shook Kurt's hand before he could blink.  
  
"Nice to meet you..." she said in a voice barely above a whisper. Kurt looked down at the hands clasped between them, then looked back up at her and grinned.  
  
"Hey, get outta my way, I have to meet her too!" Evan shoved past his blue furry friend, who stepped back, grinning. Evan stuck out his hand.  
  
"Name's Evan, but you can call me Spyke," he said, grinning in that way that only he could. She took his hand as lightly as she had taken the others, and her eyebrows lifted in the tiniest of movements as she reacted to his...er...forward manner.  
  
"Oh, that's right!" exclaimed Jean. "We forgot to tell you our mutations." The grins remained on everyone's faces as Jean pointed out each of their mutant abilities. She only paused when she came back to Greta. "Greta, um...the Professor didn't tell me exactly what you can do. Would you mind explaining? Maybe a little demonstration?"  
  
Greta moved her head back to the position it had been in before: facing the floor, with only her eyes in view. "I don't really know a lot about it," she started softly. "The only thing I've been able to figure out is this." She moved to lift herself off the floor (Note: like she did in the first chapter), when she realized her hand was still in Evan's. Ducking her head immediately, she blushed at the floor and pulled her hand away from his. When she finally looked back up at the group, she saw a mild blush still on Evan's face, along with an embarrassed smirk.  
  
"I can, um..." she continued. She moved her hands so they were parallel to the floor, pressing the insides of her wrists against her thighs.  
  
_She probably doesn't know how much she looks like one of those kid- dancers,_ Jean thought, smiling to herself.  
  
A mild look of concentration could be seen on Greta's face as she 'pushed' with her mind, through her palms. Peering down, she could see her feet were about eight inches off the floor. Tentatively, she took a few steps forward on the air. The circle of people stepped out to accomodate her. After about six steps, Greta released the 'force' she was exerting on the floor slowly, and stepped back down onto solid hardwood.  
  
"Hey, Greta." Greta's eyebrows lifted slightly again as she looked at Scott. "I just have a question. Why did you take those steps when you were up there? I mean, if I'm not mistaken, it looked like you were applying pressure to the floor with your hands. And I could see the way you turned your hands behind you when you wanted to go forward. So why'd you take those steps?"  
  
"I, um..." Was it just him, or had her voice gotten even softer? "I guess I'm just used to walking."  
  
Jean blinked in surprise as she heard a constant refrain coming from the newcomer's mind: _*Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush, don't blush, don't blush, don't....*_ She wasn't surprised to hear that *particular* phrase being repeated, she was just surprised to see it having an effect. Only the tiniest hint of a blush could be seen on Greta's cheeks as she ducked her head toward the floor again.  
  
Though Jean knew she shouldn't head-hop, she ducked into Scott's mind, to see what he was thinking about all this. What she heard matched her suspicion: he was remonstrating himself: _*Oh, *great,* Scott, now you've upset her. She was shy to *begin* with, and now you've gone and *embarrassed* her, like Evan didn't do a good enough job at *that.*_  
  
Jean had to resist the urge to tell Scott not to be so hard on himself.  
  
_Let him sort that out on his own,_ she thought to herself.  
  
Kitty could tell that things were turning for the worse (she wasn't *that* much of an airhead as to not be able to tell what was going on *here*), so she decided to try and change the subject.  
  
"Hey, like, Greta, you wanna, like, go meet Rogue? She stays here at the Institute, too. You should really, like, meet her if you, like, wanna live here."  
  
"Oh...okay," Greta half-whispered.  
  
_Like, success! Hey, maybe I can, like, make a new friend!_  
  
"Well, let's, like, go, if you, like, want to meet her! Come on!" Kitty grabbed Greta's hand and started tugging her toward the main door. Greta followed behind, that tiny little half-smile on her face again as Kitty dragged her out the living room door and up the stairs.  
  
***  
  
Sorry, but that's all I'm doing today! Yeah, I know you wanted about fifteen more pages (yeah, that's a laugh), but it's a lot of work to write stuff like this! Well, it's a lot of work to write anything, really. But you have to work really *hard* to write *badly* (that's a joke. Laugh)! Anywho, I know I promised some work on developing Greta's skills, but, as you can see, I've gone a bit overboard on the introductions. Sigh. Oh, well, guess you'll just have to wait. Oh, and review. There will be *no more* if you don't review. So there. 


	4. Discussion and Progress

Whoo-hoo! I finally finished the chapter! Wowie, this thing is long! Well, at least, it seems that way to me, 'cause it took me so long to write. Ooh, I'm so proud of myself, I'm not even going to proofread (or is that because I'm lazy? The world may never know...)! Please forgive my sillyness, I'm dreadfully excited right now! Okay, without further ado, here is Chapter Four.  
  
***  
  
Chapter Four: Discussion and Progress  
  
"Excuse me, girls. Greta, I must speak with you."  
Kitty, Greta, and Rogue all looked up from what they had been looking at: Rogue's glove collection. Greta had been interested, and Kitty had insisted that Rogue take them out. To tell the truth, it was quite an impressive collection.  
_Now there's something you don't see every day,_ Rogue thought, looking at the Professor. He was right in the doorway of the room. _When does the *Professor* come down *this* hallway?_ Greta was looking at the Professor with a blank expression. She glanced back at the two roommates before responding.  
"Okay," she said quietly. Rogue and Kitty watched as the Professor led her out of the room and down the hall.  
_Now I wonder what *that's* all about._  
  
***  
  
Greta looked at the Professor expectantly. They were in his study; she had taken a seat in the most normal-looking chair she could find. She didn't think she was ready for one of those overstuffed armchairs yet. She rubbed the edge of her eye absently as she waited for the Professor to begin. Which he did.  
"What do you think of the others in the institute so far, Greta?" She shrugged. "And your room?" Another shrug.   
_Why don't you just get to the point?_  
"Alright, I will." She jumped a little. She'd forgotten about the mind-reading thing. "We have a great deal to talk about, Greta, so I might as well just get to the first of three points." He took a deep breath. "Greta, I'm concerned about your education. Would you mind telling me what kind of schooling you have had thus far?"  
"Don't-" she paused, not used to speaking with someone who was actually *concerned* about her. "Don't you already know?"  
"Yes, I do, but it would be better if you told me yourself, I think."  
There was another pause. She had never *really* admitted how little she knew about things. And besides, how did she know he wasn't going to tell everyone else?  
"Greta, you can trust me. Everything said within this room will remain confidential."  
Again with the mind-reading thing. This was going to take some getting used to. She took a breath: "I don't really know anythin'. I mean, I been livin' on the streets. How do you expect a girl with no home to sign up for school?" _How do you expect a girl with no *name* to sign up for school?_  
  
Xavier sighed, and steepled his fingers (Note: Is it just me, or does he do that a lot?). Of course he knew that she would never have gone to social services; she would have been terrified if they had found out anything about her.   
"I'm assuming that you don't know how to read?" She shook her head.   
"I told you, I don't know anythin'. I don't know how to count, or nothin'. Hell, I hardly even know how to talk."  
Xavier looked at her intensely. She faltered a bit under his gaze.   
_I'll have to have a talk with the other recruits. I don't want them insulting her inadvertantly._  
"There's a teacher here, Hank McCoy. I'll ask him if he'd like to tutor you. You seem like a bright young girl; I'm sure you'll learn the basics quickly, and from there it is only a few more steps up to the high school level." Greta showed very little reaction to what he had said.  
  
She didn't know what to think. Greta had always been indifferent about learning books and crap like that. After all, what did it matter to her? She couldn't use it to defend herself from other people.   
_I'll think about that later,_ she told herself.  
"What's the second point?"  
The Professor's eyes widened. He had probably been expecting a larger response to that. She cursed herself mentally.  
"I told you earlier, Greta, that this was an institute for young mutants. Did the other people here show you their powers?"  
"They told me about them."  
"I, and the other adults here, work with each of the other students on helping them control their powers. More than a few times a week, the students are helped to better understand the powers they have, so they can begin to use them to defend themselves. You see, everyone here belongs to a group called the X-Men." Greta's eyes widened. She had heard some pretty weird rumors about some people calling themselves X-Men. Of course, she had always thought of them as the Ex-Men, and had puzzled over why people wouldn't want to call themselves people. Now she realized that it had to stand for something.  
"What does the name mean?"  
The Professor rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The name stands for two things, Greta. One being the X-gene, which is the gene in a person's body that makes them a mutant." Okay, she didn't know what *that* meant. The Professor didn't seem to notice, and moved on: "It also stands for the first letter of my last name. Any other questions?"  
A new thought occurred to Greta. "Do I have to join them?" The Professor's expression never changed, but Greta could detect mild amusement in his eyes.  
"No, you don't *have* to join them, Greta. You will not be forced to do anything. However, you may join them if you *wish.* What I was trying to convey was that you will also have trainings such as those of the other students should you choose to stay here."  
_Whoa. Wait a minute. *Not* stay here?! No way. No way, no-how._ Now that she was off the streets, she most definitely did *not* want to go back.  
  
Xavier decided to change the subject. "The third and final topic I wanted to bring up is that of your past." At this Greta paled visibly, and Xavier could feel her mind pushing away from the subject. She did *not* want to talk about it. Unfortunately, Xavier *needed* to know what she knew. It would be better to get it out into the open, anyway. "I know that you don't wish to speak about this, but it is imperative that I know. What do you know about your past, Greta?"  
"Nothing." She was squeezing one thumb with the other in her lap. Her hands were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. "No. I don't wanna talk about it." He could feel that her mind was clenched just as tightly.  
Xavier continued calmly. "If you wish, I, or one of the teachers here, can attempt to find something out about where you came from." She was beginning to look very strained. "Beyond that, I won't pry any further if you don't want me to."  
All her muscles relaxed. Just like that. Xavier sighed deeply, and leaned back into his wheelchair. "One of the teachers here is waiting outside the door, Greta. She will be taking you to talk about your powers. Thank you for speaking with me." He watched as she stood up, looked over her shoulder at him one last time, and peeked through the door before exiting the study.   
_This is going to take a lot of work._  
  
***  
  
There was a woman with white hair waiting outside in hall for Greta. She smiled warmly at her as Greta peeked cautiously through a crack in the door. Greta stepped through and looked up at her, thinking: _She *must* have dyed her hair that color. There's no *way* it's that way naturally._  
"Hello, Greta. My name's Ororo Monroe. You can call me Ororo," she paused, that friendly smile still on her face. "Or Storm."   
_Storm? What the- oh, it must have something to do with her powers. Either that, or she has really bad P.M.S._  
"If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the Danger Room." Greta raised an eyebrow, causing Ororo's smile to widen.  
_The 'Danger Room'? This doesn't sound good._   
"Don't worry, that's just where we do our training sessions. I'll make sure you aren't in any *real* danger."  
As they spoke, they headed toward an elevator at the end of the hallway. Stepping inside, Greta did a double-take as she saw the vast array of buttons.  
"Does, um..."  
"What is it, Greta?"  
"Are all-a these for different floors?" Ororo just smiled, and pushed one of the Basement buttons. The elevator began to hum around them.  
"Now, the Professor told me that your power had something to do with pressure. Is that right?"  
"I dunno. All I know is, if I concentrate, I can float, like, a half a foot above the floor. Oh, and once, I, um, I pushed this real drunk guy away from me without touchin' 'im, but I dunno if that was because-a me, or because he was just so drunk he didn't know where he was goin'." Greta blinked, surprised at herself. She had never given that much information to someone she had just met. Ororo just smiled at her.  
"Well, we're here." They stepped out of the elevator and headed down a very metallic hallway. Greta glanced about her in fascination. Then she spotted a huge set of double-doors emblazoned with an 'X'. She nearly stopped in her tracks.   
_And I thought the *upstairs* was fancy._ Her eyes widened in shock as the doors opened at their approach. _Jesus H. Christ._ Their footsteps echoed as they stepped into the large, empty room. Greta stared around her and reminded herself to raise her expectations for the rest of the mansion.  
  
"Well, why don't you show me this 'floating trick' that you told me about?" Ororo immediately regretted speaking so suddenly as the slight girl beside her twitched at the sound of her voice. She didn't actually jump; that was what intrigued Ororo about Greta: all of her motions were halfway. Her voice was barely above a whisper, although she seemed to think that she was talking at normal tones. And her features didn't seem to want to change position too much, since Ororo hadn't seen a look of extreme emotion on the girl yet. _Of course. This was what the Professor was warning me of when he said she is 'shy.'_ Ororo's focused on the teen in front of her. She seemed to be recovering from the slight shock, so Ororo prompted her again: "Well?"  
"Okay," Greta whispered. The look of concentration on her face was, for her, extreme, as she 'lifted' herself up and took a few steps on the air. She looked to be about ten inches off the floor. Once she had stepped down, she remarked shyly: "Um, that kid Scott noticed before that I try ta walk when I'm...uh...floatin'. Maybe I should try to work on that, ya think?"  
_Either her self-esteem is very low from her life on the street, or she's deliberately keeping herself down. We'll have to work on *that.*_ "No, Greta, I think it's just fine if you try to walk on the air. In fact, I think it's good. Many people have had the dream to do it, you're one of the lucky few who can."  
Greta's eyes widened in a tiny way. She looked like she had a question about that, but whatever it was, she kept it to herself. "Uh, what next?"  
Instead of responding, Ororo asked the computer for a small object, perhaps a wooden block. When it appeared Greta's eyes widened a little bit more. "Greta, I just have a question to ask you: what do you feel when you walk on the air?"  
"Huh?"  
"I noticed that you pointed your hands downward while you did it. What I'm asking, essentially, is what sort of *feeling* you get in your body when you use your power."  
  
Greta thought for a second. "I feel this...tingle...in my wrists..." she started slowly. She looked up, and Ororo nodded for her to continue. "...and if I sorta...push it down into my hands...you know, the middle?" She pointed to her palm. Ororo nodded again. "And if I push it...if I push it out...toward the ground, you know? I can lift m'self up," she finished. She looked to Ororo for approval. She was nodding once more. _Does she know that she's doin' that?_  
"I see what you're getting at. Tell me, when you 'pushed' that drunk away from you, did you feel the same thing?"  
Greta furrowed her brow. "Come ta think of it, yeah. How come I never thought-a that?"  
"You were confused, and probably shocked with yourself. It's no wonder you didn't want to muddle it over." Greta stored that in her head for further thought. "I'm thinking that perhaps you could use your powers to push other things besides yourself, Greta. And I'm wondering whether you could push that 'tingle' of yours further down from your wrists. What do you think?"  
Greta shrugged, not really sure. "I dunno."  
"Well, let's try it. Here, I'm going to hold this block for you-" Ororo walked over and picked up the rectangular block. "And I want you to try and push it off my hand without touching it. Can you do that?"  
Greta shrugged again. "Okay." She walked up to Ororo, who was holding the block up at Greta's shoulder-level. Greta held up her hand, palm out, at the block. A look of extreme concentration was on her face as she focused on the tingle in her wrist. She pushed it out into her palm, then out of her palm toward the block. Holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she watched as the block on Ororo's hand shuddered a tiny bit, then started to move away from Greta's palm. She focused even harder, and the block toppled onto the floor. It took a moment for Greta to register what had happened.  
Straightening out, she lowered her hand and looked at Ororo. Ororo was smiling even more than she had been before, and she looked like she was about to say something, but there was a sudden hiss from behind Greta, and they both looked to the double doors.  
"Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?" asked Evan, smiling sheepishly from the doorway. Greta felt her eyebrows lift the tiniest bit at the sight of the intruder. _Cut it out,_ she thought. _I don't want him *thinkin'* anythin'._  
"What did you want, Evan?" Ororo seemed a little annoyed.  
"I was just gonna ask if I could go to the movies with Kurt and Kitty. They're gonna go see this horror flick, and-"  
"That's fine, Evan, but you're forgetting your manners." His eyebrow lifted, but then he seemed to realize his mistake.  
"Sorry, Greta. Do you want to come too?"  
  
***  
  
Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! I'm not going to tell you what happens! Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah! Hee-hee-hee! That's right, you'll just have to review and find out. Oh, sometimes I can be so evil that I amaze myself!  
So whaddaya think? Did enough happen in this chapter to satisfy your cravings (yes, that's right, my writing's addictive), or do I have to go even *further*? *Please* review! 


	5. Shopping?

All right, I apologize for taking so long to update. And I apologize for the fact that this chapter's so short. I just...um...okay, I don't have an excuse. Wait...uh, I'm tired? Yeah, that's the ticket. I'm tired. Yup. Ah, the hell with it, just read the fic!  
  
***  
  
Chapter Five: Shopping?  
  
***  
"Sorry, Greta. Do you want to come too?"  
She turned to Ororo for guidance. Ororo looked down at her for a moment, thinking, then spoke again: "Yes, I think it would be all right if you went, Greta." Greta nodded slightly, but then a thought occurred to her.  
_How can I go out in *this* stuff? I mean, now that I have dignity..._  
Peering down at what she was wearing, she played with the end of her sleeve. Ororo seemed to see what was troubling her.  
"Of course, you could always go to the movies later. You haven't gotten your new wardrobe yet, have you?" There was a cheerful-looking smile on her face. Greta shook her head.  
  
Evan's heart sank. _I was *that close*! Argh, now I have to go sit through a movie with Kurt and Kitty falling all over each other...why couldn't I have just kept my big mouth *shut*?.....wait.....maybe there's a way I could make this work!_ "Hey- I could take Greta shopping." Another thought popped into his head. "That is, if you *want* to go shopping." There was a shrug from Greta.  
"I don't know, Evan," Ororo started. "The last time we trusted you with the Professor's credit..."  
"I'll be *good* this time, Aunty O', I *promise*. Aw, come on-" he flashed his most winning smile at her. "Please?" Just like that, she melted before his eyes. _She's really kind of a soft touch, once you get down to it._ Evan smiled, knowing that she would relent.  
"Alright, Evan. But remember, you're just shopping for *Greta.* Nothing for yourself. Do you understand?"  
"Sure, Aunty O', I understand." He clapped his hands and turned to Greta. "So…let's go!"  
"Not so fast, Evan."  
"Huh?"  
"We have to ask for permission from the Professor first."  
  
***  
  
Fifteen minutes later...  
  
***  
  
"Well, then I see no reason why you shouldn't take her shopping, Evan."  
Evan smiled, surprised. "All right!"  
"That is, provided Greta still wants to go."  
All the eyes in the room turned to look at her. Quavering a bit, Greta fought the urge to take a step backwards. There was no *way* anyone could expect her to think like *this*...  
"Evan, are you, like, coming or *what*?" asked an impatient-sounding voice from the doorway. Everyone turned to look at at Kitty, who had her hands on her hips and was tapping her toe, annoyed. Greta took the opportunity presented to think to herself.  
_Okay, Greta, think fast. You could go to the mall with blondie over there and get new clothes for the first time in your life...you could go to the movies and scare yourself ta death with a blue fuzzy weirdo-lookin' guy and a valleygirl...or you could stay here and figure out how to push blocks offa people's hands..._  
She closed her eyes, trying to block out anything that was happening in the room.  
_Uh..._  
  
As Greta was thinking, Evan was looking with a rather stunned expression at Kitty, who now had an equally annoyed-looking Kurt standing behind her.  
"Ja, man, you kind of left us dangling there. Are you coming with us?"  
"Uh...I dunno, that kind of depends on Greta, here," he said, gesturing with his head. "I might be taking her shopping if she wants to go."  
Kitty seemed fully fed up with the situation. She scoffed, "Ugh, then, Greta, do you, like, want to go shopping with Evan?" Evan turned to her, crossing his fingers (sort of) inside his head.  
Seeing that everyone was looking at her again, Greta panicked. "Uh, okay," she said softly. She sighed with relief as everyone but Evan looked away.   
"There is your answer, Kitty," Evan heard the Professor take this opportunity to intercede there was an argument. She turned on her heel, scoffing again. They could still hear the two of them as their voices receded.  
"Oh, *God,* I can't, like, *believe* this," Kitty said through clenched teeth.  
"Calm down," they heard Kurt say. "Let's just go to the movies, Katzchen."  
A faint sigh was heard; they were nearly all the way down the hall. "Okay. Let's just, like, go."  
Evan focused back on the girl in front of him. While he had been listening to the conversation in the hall, Greta had moved to the nearest chair and sat down, withdrawing into herself.   
  
"Now that *that* is over with," Ororo muttered.  
"There is only one thing left to say before you go," said the Professor. Greta looked up from her position on the chair. She didn't much feel like going anywhere at this point. She would rather just go to sleep, or sit down and think for awhile.  
_Oh well, girl. You said you were going shoppin', so you had better *go.* If you suffer, it's your own fault._  
"Yeah? What's that?" Evan moved to stand by Greta's chair, causing Greta to glance up at him, surprised.  
"Greta can spend up to five hundred dollars on her clothing." Greta could almost *feel* Evan's eyes widen. "Here is my credit card." He handed it to Evan. "I trust you can find your way to the mall?"   
"Yeah, I can handle it."  
"Very well, then. I expect you back here before nightfall. It is-" he checked his watch. "2:30 now." Greta watched Evan nod. The Professor lifted his eyebrows. "That is all. Greta," he looked at her. "Have fun." She could swear that she almost saw him smile before she turned and walked out of the room with Evan.  
  
***  
  
Okay, okay, I know it's short (and I know I said that already). And I *know* that it's unlikely that the responsible adults would send *Evan* out with *money* and a really frightened new recruit, but...I *had* to get them alone *somehow.* Tee-hee-hee! Oh, and forgive me for making the plot move so slowly, will ya? This is my first *real* fanfic (*chuckles nervously*...you know *chuckles again*), and I just want- I just want people to *like* me! Is that so much to ask?! Really?!   
All right, I'm insane, I admit it. Okay, here's the deal (in case you didn't see it in the summary; or in case I didn't *put* it in the summary): I want *fifteen* reviews before I update again. Got that? *Fifteen.* In case you *didn't* get that, I'll say it one more time: *fifteen.* Okay. Just wanted to make sure you understood. Well, talk to ya next time I post (after I get *fifteen reviews*)!  
:)  
P.S. *Fifteen* (hee-hee-hee). 


	6. An Experience in the Mall

Yippee-kay-yo-kay-yay (or however you spell it)! *Fifteen*! Although I must admit that some of you cheated (naughty, naughty). But at least you are keepin' me on my toes. By the way, next time I ask for reviews, I'll ask for *nice* ones. But, whoo-hoo! As promised, here is Chapter Six. I *do* hope you enjoy it (and tell me so).  
  
***  
  
Chapter Six: An Experience in the Mall  
  
***  
  
_Stop *lookin'* at me like that,_ Greta thought in Evan's direction. They were on their way to the mall, another place Greta had little knowledge of. They were walking, because, apparently, Evan was not old enough to have a driver's license (Note to readers: I'm assuming that Evan's fifteen, okay?). Greta was having no problem with the lack of transportation (it wasn't like she had been on the bus much or anything), but Evan seemed pretty annoyed, and was constantly cursing the pain in his feet under his breath.  
"What I would give for my skateboard right now..." she heard him murmur.  
_There ya are, Greta. Back in the ol' habits. Puttin' people outta their way for you. You *coulda* just stayed home, but noooooooo....you had to drag ol' *Spyke* here out justa buy you clothes._  
They mounted the top of a small hill, and the mall came into view. They halted in their steps at the same time. Greta saw Evan looking at her again out of the corner of her eye, so she tried to keep her focus elsewhere.   
This neighborhood was so...suburban. Greta was surprised at how far-apart everything was; everything in the city had been rather cramped, and Greta had been used to it. Open space was an altogether new idea.  
Walking towards the mall again, she eyed the parking lot suspiciously. Yup. The mall was jam-packed.   
"It's Saturday, everyone's gotta be at the mall," said Evan, voicing her thoughts.  
"Yeah," she said, and that was the end of their conversation...  
  
***  
  
...until they reached the mall, of course. Evan watched Greta shrink in stature as they walked through the door. All of a sudden, it was dim, and there was a great deal of noise. They both blinked as their eyes adjusted to the light in the busy mall.  
"So, where do you want to go first?" he asked her cheerfully. He couldn't stand to see her - someone - this scared. The only response was a shrug. Not to be discouraged, Evan pressed on. "How about a snack? Have you had lunch yet?" She shook her head slightly.   
"Haven't had lunch yet, but...I'm not hungry," came the barely-audible reply.  
"Well, come on." He waved her towards the first clothing store on their right. "Let's go shop."  
  
Not without trepidation, Greta entered the store. It was a lot brighter inside the store than it was in the main mall. She blinked, and stopped for a minute, listening to the conversations around her.  
"Honey, that outfit makes you look like a tramp. I'm not buying it for you."  
"Mo-om, it's just cut a half-an-inch lower than *your* shirt-"  
"Do you think this would go better with the red or the white? I don't-"  
"Do you think Johnny likes me? I was flirting with him today, but-"  
"OhmyGod! Pink is *so* my color! I should buy it-"  
"Ugh, I look so bloated! I am *not* buying *this.*" A ridiculously thin girl was examining her figure in a mirror Greta's left.   
Greta looked back to Evan. His forward personality seemed a bit stymied in this all-girl's store, but as she watched, he bit his lip, a resolute expression passing over his face. He looked back at her, then waved her over to the first clothing-rack on his right.   
"This'll probably fit you! Hmm, looks like a size-" he looked at the tag on a pair of jeans he had picked up. "Whoa, *three.* Welp, here you go!" He handed her the hanger, and she held the jeans away from herself, looking at them in mild disdain. "You're gonna have to try on *everything* until we narrow this down to an *art* (and believe me, that's gonna take awhile)." There was a mischievous grin on his face. "Be prepared to be holding a *lot* of clothes."  
  
***  
  
Three stores, and one hour later...  
  
***  
  
_The crowd must be gettin' to me._ Greta wiped a cold sweat from her brow. _Or somethin' like that..._ She looked over to the rack behind which Evan had last been seen, and realized the room was getting blurry. _What the-_ She felt her fingers go slack, and her shopping bags fell to the floor. She looked down at the blur that was the floor, and the last look on her face before she collapsed was one of confusion.  
  
"Hey, Greta, what do you think? You want to go punk?" Evan held out a graffiti-covered black shirt out and poked his head around the rack. The first thing he saw was Greta's collapsed form on the floor, and before he knew it, the shirt was on the floor and he was standing above her, panicking. "Greta?" He knelt down and shook her gently. "Greta?" Concern filled his voice. "Greta, wake up!" Standing up, he looked about himself frantically for some kind of help. There was a voice nearby. Not letting Greta out of his sight, as she looked to be huddling into herself in pain, he looked beyond the racks to his right and left.   
Aha! There. He ran up to the man, and, on instinct, grabbed his cellphone. There was an astonished "Hey!"   
"Sorry, I have to use it, can't explain, bye!" Running back to Greta's side, he spoke into the phone. "Sorry, he can't talk right now, he'll call you back!" Beep! His fingers fumbled as he dialed the Professor as fast as he possibly could. Ring, ring, ri- "Professor! It's Greta, she's-"  
"I know, Evan. We're on our way. Stay calm." Click.   
_Sure, stay calm. That'll be easy, considering that all of a sudden she just-_ He knelt by the small figure, whose face was still twisted in extreme pain. Unsure of what to do, he took her hand and tried to whisper his reassurance that everything would be all right.  
  
***  
  
So there ya have it. Well, actually, lol, no, you don't! 'Cause I ain't gonna tell you what's gonna happen 'till next chapter! You just have to review and find out! Oh, and this time I'm asking for more reviews. I want there to be a *twenty-five* next to that title, or no dice. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Yeah, um...twenty-five!  
:) 


	7. Waking up (again)

I've been forgetting the disclaimer all this time, so: I don't own any of these characters (except for Greta), and I don't own any of the situations (sadly), and I'm only going to say this once ('cause I keep forgetting, hee-hee).  
Hey, "The Truth." FYI, this isn't an interactive fic. Greta's *my* character. *I* created her, so I can write about her when I want. And if I want reviews before I write, then I'm damn well gonna ask for 'em.  
That was such a quick response! Okay, let me just pick my jaw up off the floor before I write any more...there.   
Oh, and I'm sorry I can't make it much longer today, but I have to go to school...I'm not asking for any reviews this time.  
:)  
  
***  
  
Chapter Seven: Waking up (again)  
  
***  
  
Her mind was chaos. Lights, colors, black streaking through the rainbow like a beacon...all this was in Greta's mind.  
And it hurt.  
And, throughout all there was an overall feeling of confusion. She felt like she was falling towards the colors...how was that possible? Where was she? Wasn't she just in the mall?  
She hit the colors, and they collapsed around her in folds like cloth. She continued to fall, wrapped in a bundle, the ends of the colors rippling through the air above her...  
Then she hit bottom, and the colors disappeared. She could hear someone crying. Saying something...something about broken promises.  
And then she woke up.  
  
***  
  
"Her powers are manifesting," the Professor explained.  
"What?"  
"I'll explain." He steepled his fingers and looked at Evan, who appeared to be a little...tense. "You have been told before that Greta's powers have to do with pressure, am I correct?" Nod. "Well, apparently, Greta can do more than just manipulate pressure to move things away from herself...she seems to have become very sensitive to pressure...air pressure, especially, it seems. All the movement in the mall must have irritated this sensitivity."  
"Can I see her?"  
"If you wish, but she is asleep. There is really nothing you can do for her, Evan."   
"Well, I wanna see her anyway." Spyke had that determined look on his face again. With a sigh, the Professor gestured at the door to the infirmary.  
  
_She looks like an angel when she's asleep. Wait, what am I thinking?!_ Evan paused at the door. _I just met her, she's not even a *friend* yet!_ Evan took one step forward, then thought: _Down, boy._ He walked the rest of the way into the room and sat down by her bed. Tentatively, Evan reached out and held her hand. Just as tentatively, he covered it with his other hand, then looked up at her face. Her brow was creased in pain, and, though she was asleep, she looked about ready to cry.   
"You promised..." Evan started. She was asleep, but she was speaking? _Duh, Evan, lots of people talk in their sleep, why not her?_ He leaned forward so he could hear the soft words more clearly.  
"...how could you do that? You *promised*..." She blinked once and then looked at him. The first action she made, though, was to pull her hand out from between his.   
"Uh," he cleared his throat. Smiling weakly, he spoke again. "You feelin' better?"  
"Sorry," she half-whispered. "No one's - no one's held my hand before."  
"Oh, um, that's okay." There was a moment of awkward silence.  
"Why did I pass out?"  
"You're gonna have to ask the Professor about that. I don't think I could really explain it. But...he said somethin' about new powers." She nodded lightly.  
  
The Professor sat outside the room, listening to the hushed and awkward conversation. He smiled slightly, nodded at Ororo, who was standing by, ready to help Greta in a cold second, and wheeled away to his study to think.  
  
***  
  
Oh, no, I have to go to school! Argh!  
Hope you liked. Review at your leisure.  
:P 


	8. A Day of Training

Whee-hoo! Yeah, I deleted some of my (more abusive) reviews, but oh well! So I'm down to twenty-one, so what? I'm sure I'll be getting more reviews after *this* chapter...well, actually, I don't expect that many, but that's okay.  
By the by, I have a little note to "inhale me" if he/she is still reading this: Don't worry (giggle), I know I'm not Lyra Silvertongue, but I just really love the name, that's all. I really *enjoyed* His Dark Materials, except for the last few chapters of the last book (kinda dragged, heh-you know). So, anyway, just wanted you to know.  
And now, without further ado:  
  
***  
  
Chapter Eight: A Day of Training (Well, half a day)  
  
***  
  
Knock, knock. "Greta? You awake in there?"  
"Mmmph?" She spoke into her pillow.  
Click. "This is your first official wake-up call." Greta could hear the smile in Jean's voice. "Hank's going to want to see you downstairs in about a half-an-hour. Think you can manage?" Greta sat up and attempted to wipe the sleep out of her eyes. It didn't work. She looked at the older mutant blearily.  
"Yeah."  
"Okay. I'll see you at breakfast." She started to close the door.  
"Wait. Who's Hank?"  
"He's another one of the teachers here." There was a mischievous grin on her face. "We call him 'Beast.' You'll be able to guess why when you see him."  
"Okay." Click. Greta looked over her shoulder at her brand-new clock radio. 10:30. _Way to sleep late on the first day, Greta._ Standing up, she padded over to her dresser and looked into the mirror above it. Bedraggled. Go figure. She had had more than a little trouble falling asleep the previous night on her new bed, not to mention the fact that she had still been coping with the after-effects of the dinner conversation. The company had been...rowdy, to say the least. And it wasn't as if she could just *sleep* after she had caught Evan looking at her three more times during dinner.   
Sigh.  
_Okay, now you can *stop* staring at yourself._ She shook herself out of her reverie and opened one of the dresser drawers. She stared, bewildered, at the neatly folded clothes. _Now *here's* a problem I didn't expect to hafta deal with._ After another few moments of thought, she selected a pair of soft jeans and a green top with a penguin on it. Still unsure of herself, she slipped them on and looked at her reflection once more. _Not half bad. Though you could *still* use a haircut._ She put on a pair of sneakers and, after a short trip to the bathroom (and a little difficulty with the toothpaste), made her way downstairs.   
  
"Like, hi!" chirped Kitty from her place at the table. Besides Greta, she and Jean were the only ones in the kitchen. "Did you, like, sleep well?"  
"Uh, yeah, I slept okay." _There ya go with the lies, already, Greta. Next time, tell tha truth. They're gonna expect it._  
"Like, that's good. Hungry?"  
"Sure."  
"Cool. You know, I was, like, going to make you some pancakes, in, like, honor of it being your, like, first whole day here? But *Jean* over there," she faked a scowl and chucked a thumb at the stove. "like, wouldn't let me."  
"Kitty, once you learn how to cook properly, you *know* I'll let you greet new people with food. But until then..." she smiled and flipped over the eggs in the skillet.  
Kitty rolled her eyes, then gestured to Greta. "Like, come on in. Sit, like, next to me." Greta took the invitation and sat down. Jean placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her. She was just getting a hang of using her fork properly when something huge, blue, and furry walked into the room. Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth, then, fearing looking rude, Greta forced herself to finish the motion.  
"Hello, Greta. I'm Hank McCoy." He smiled, and stuck out a hand. Greta put down her fork and shook it, making sure her face didn't show much of a reaction to the fur on a *normal* hand. Kurt's tridactyl ones had been a lot easier to accept, but this... "Are you nearly done with your breakfast?" She nodded, taking a final bite of her eggs. The smile remained on his face. "I'm going to be helping you catch up with your studies, if that's all right. Please put your plate in the sink and follow me to the library." She obliged, and, waving shyly to Kitty and Jean, followed him out into the hall.  
  
***  
  
Some time later...  
  
***  
  
"Dick...said, 'Down,... Spot,... down. I want to see the...li...lit...I want to see the little dogs.'"  
"You're making amazing progress, Greta! You're a very fast learner." Greta ducked her head and blushed toward the table. "At this rate, you'll be caught up with the rest of your grade in no time!"  
"Hey, how's it goin', you two?" They looked up to see Rogue at the door.  
"Oh, very well," rumbled Beast. "In fact, I was just telling Greta what a fast learner she is." Greta looked down at the table again, blushing furiously.  
"Well, just wanted to check up on ya. Well, have 'Fun with Dick and Jane'!" Hank chuckled at the joke, then turned back to Greta as Rogue disappeared into the hallway.  
"Would you care to continue?"  
"Dick said, 'Look...look here, Fa...father...Th..is little dog...likes us...'"  
  
***  
  
Once Hank realized that stories such as "The Cat in the Hat" were becoming less and less of a challenge for Greta, they had moved onto greater things. They were halfway through "Freckle Juice" when Ororo came in to take Greta for another session in the Danger Room. Greta had become comfortable enough with these two teachers that she decided to try cracking a joke.  
"Jeez, it seems like all I do around here is work, work, work..." The two adults smiled, seemingly happy with the progress she was making.  
  
***  
  
Ororo began the session with an order to the computer: "Computer, please adjust pressure in the Danger Room to One Atmosphere." Greta's eyes glazed as she focused on her hands. She flexed her fingers slightly.  
"Um, forgive me for askin', but how is it that my hands feel so much different?"  
"Greta, when you passed out yesterday, it was because of your sensitivity to pressure. All the movement in the mall must have been too much for you."  
_How is it that they know so much about this already?_  
"We thought that perhaps you might want to put this sensitivity to good use, as well as learning to...well, to not feel changes in pressure so much. It might be useful if you wish to go to any public places." Greta nodded, understanding.  
"So what do I hafta do?"  
"I'm going to ask the computer to change the atmosphere a few times. But first, I want you to note what the pressure feels like right now. The air pressure is One Atmosphere."  
"One Atmosphere," she repeated, squeezing the air in her hands. She was lucky everyone here was so open-minded. If someone on the street had seen her doing that, they would've thought she was...well, weird.  
"Got it? All right. Computer, change pressure to One Point One Atmospheres."   
_Wow, does that feel weird. And I can feel it in my head, too. Whacko._ Greta squeezed the air in her hands again, then ran a finger over her right temple. "I can feel it up here, too."  
Ororo nodded, then proceeded to take Greta and the computer through as many pressures as the two humans could stand. Finally, when Greta was starting to get *really* bored, Ororo informed her that they had both had enough.  
"Now for a little test." She walked over to a keypad on one wall and keyed something in. Greta could feel the pressure change immediately. "What is the air pressure now?"  
"Point Seven Five Atmospheres," she blurted out immediately. _*How* did I do *that*?_  
"That's right! Good job. Now, how about this one..."  
It seemed to stretch on forever, but Greta astonished herself by getting every one right. After what seemed like an hour, Ororo announced: "It's time for lunch." She smiled at Greta, and checked her watch. "One o'clock. You had a late breakfast, didn't you?" Ororo's tone was slightly scolding, but she was smiling. "Let's go upstairs and see what we-"  
She was cut off by the hiss of the double-doors and Evan's voice. "Hey, Aunty O', Greta, you guys comin' up for lunch, or what?" Greta and Ororo shared a look.  
"This is getting to be something of a habit, isn't it?" Greta smiled slightly at Ororo's words, then answered Evan herself.  
"Yeah, we're comin'."  
  
***  
  
Ta-dah! There, finished with Chapter Eight. I don't know if it's long enough, but...whatever! Yeah, I'm havin' a little writer's block today, for *some* reason. Sigh. Oh, well. So what didja think? Cool? Okay, so I'm just bidin' my time, here, but stuff's gonna happen soon, I promise! If I can think of something (hee-hee-hee)...  
Say, if you have any ideas as to what should happen next, I could use a little help (*smile*).  
:-) 


	9. Party Time!

Howdy-ho! I know I've been out for awhile, but...well, I'm not going to tell you what the problem was. It's too...personal. Just kidding! Three words: too much homework. Ah, I love school, don't you? That is, if you attend school. Which you might not. Anyway...  
Um, I just have a little note before I go on. InterNutter: this story's set between the first season and the second season (my motto is: Who needs the newbies? Hee-hee!). Now, to get on with it.  
As I have said before, this story has been lacking something: plot. Well, it had a plot, but it was moving very slowly. So in the interest of developing a plot, and re-introducing the *normal* characters into the story, I have made this lovely chapter which you see before you. :o)  
Oh, I have to explain Greta's powers. Greta can manipulate air pressure with her hands and fingers. She can do this funky stuff to push things away from herself. Soon, she'll be able to (I know I shouldn't be revealing this, but I can't contain it any longer) 'throw' her powers, in a sense. She'll be able to squeeze air into a tight ball from across a room, then release it very quickly, thus releasing a sort of bomb, propelling everything around the ball outward. Plus, she'll be able to squeeze air around objects very tightly, things like that. Oh! And, like I said in a previous chapter, she's very *sensitive* to pressure. She can feel it in her hands and in her temples, and can relate back the exact pressure. This'll be useful for detecting if a new person's entered a room if Logan's not around. :)  
Once again, I'll repeat, this is most definitely *not* a self-insertion fic. I just get really excited 'cause I'm so proud of my character and all. :D  
'Kay, I'll shut up now.  
  
***  
  
Chapter Nine: Party time!  
  
***  
  
One month later (Note: a month after the events - if you could call them events - of the last chapter)...  
  
***  
  
It was not often, in the X Mansion, that you would hear any sound beyond quiet snoring and the rustling of bedclothes after One A.M. But under the circumstances, you could hardly blame the teenagers for being up. And all of them were up... that is, all except one.  
"Ouch! You stepped on my tail, man!"  
"Well, it's not *my* fault you put it underneath my foot! It's not like I can *see* in the dark! Besides, what happened to your famous 'night-vision,' anyway?"  
"It doesn't work when I'm half-asleep!"  
There was a shushing noise from behind them. "Guys, quit making such a racket! You might wake Greta up!"  
"Or worse: the adults."  
A door opened down the hall. The four figures blinked at the light, and strained to see the figure in the doorway. "Are you yahoos comin' in, or what? I mean, now that you've woken up *everybody* in the mansion."  
"Yeah, guys. Like, are you coming? We have to, like, finish this already!"  
"I *would* come, if I thought it were safe for me *and* my tail to come through."  
"I *told* you, I can't *see*!"  
"You could at *least* try-"  
"*Shut up*, guys! Geez, am I the *only* one here who wants to get back to bed?"  
"No way."  
"No."  
"Like, no."  
"Nuh-uh."  
A little panicked. "Don't you guys care if we *finish* it or not?!"  
A muttered round of 'yes's.  
"Guys, are you *coming*?!" She stomped her foot for emphasis.  
There was a general cry of "Yes!"   
"Shhhhhh!!!"  
Finally, they managed to get everyone in the room. It took another few minutes for everyone to get comfortable. The positions were these: Rogue was half-sitting, half-reclined on her own bed, Scott was sitting next to her as if afraid the bedclothes would jump up and eat him, Jean was sitting primly on Kitty's bed, next to Kitty, of course, Evan was on the floor between the beds, against the wall (he was trying to look cool, but was failing miserably at it), and Kurt was draped over the back of a chair. Once everyone had settled into their positions, Kitty reached beneath her bed, dug around for a few seconds, then pulled out a large book. On the cover was calligraphed (Note: I just love that word, don't you?) 'The X-Manual' in gold ink. After setting the book on the bed beside her, Kitty drew out a huge pink bag filled with gel-pens. This she opened and set out on the floor in the middle of the circle.  
"Well," she said, opening the book. "What do you guys, like, want to put in this?" Everyone began to speak at once, then stopped abruptly and let out a nervous laugh. Kitty, realizing she had to do something, pointed to Kurt. "Kurt, like, what do you want to put in here?" She picked up a green gel pen and opened it, poised to write.  
"Ja, uh...I wanted to say that there is no sneaking out of your room in the middle of the night." He grinned, showing his fangs, and waggled his eyebrows at the group. Everyone groaned at the terrible joke, but laughed in spite of themselves.  
"Okay..." She bit her tongue as she finished writing it down. Looking up, her eyes traveled to the left of the fuzzball who was now in an utterly *ridiculous* position on the chair. "Scott?"  
"Me? Uh, how about...um...you should always be respectful of your team members?" This warranted another groan from the assembly. "What?! It should be included!"  
"Like, moving on," Kitty said, jotting this down. She turned to her roomate. "Rogue?"  
"'Don't pry into other people's business'?"  
"Rogue!" Jean said. "That's a little harsh."  
"Sorry, I just said the first thing that came to mind." She smiled. "How about, 'no tap-dancing on the tables'?"  
Smiling, Kitty ducked back into the book. "I'll put that in the 'silly' section." She finished with a flourish and looked to Evan. "Evan? Like, got anything?" Blush, shrug. "Okay, we'll, like, come back to you. Um, I'll write something."  
Looking over Kitty's shoulder, Jean burst out laughing. "What's it say, what's it say?!" cried the rest of the group.  
Jean caught her breath for a moment and managed to get out: "'No kidnapping Logan and giving him a makeover'!" Trying to keep their laughter down, everyone in the room collapsed into helpless giggles. It took them quite awhile to catch their breath again, but then they continued.  
Jean bit her lip. "Er, how about 'no powers at the high school'?"  
They went around the circle countless times, giggling all the way (beginning with the lovely laugh-fest that followed Kurt's "No shedding fur in the swimming pool"), until finally, at Three A.M., they ran out of space.  
"Like, there!" Kitty tossed the seventh empty gel-pen into the trash can, closing the book with her other hand. "Now everyone has to, like, sign the cover." The book went around the (now infamous) circle. To finish the job that they had spent what seemed like all night on, Kitty pulled out a voluminous bow and plopped it on the front of The X-Manual. All those present looked around at each other smugly. There was a moment of silence until Scott spoke.  
"Uh, don't you think we should be getting to bed?"  
"Heh, ja, it *is* kind of late." Everyone except for Rogue and Kitty stood up and headed for the door.  
"Hey, guys, do you think she'll, like, like it?" They all looked back, but Rogue was the one who responded.  
"She had better, after all the work that that took!" There was laughter, but it was obvious that they were all winding down for the night. It was almost quiet as they headed back to to their rooms, although, unfortunately, Scott stepped on Kurt's tail again. There was a general sigh of relief as everyone climbed back into bed and prepared to sleep late into the next day.  
  
***  
  
Greta could hear the floorboards creaking, and she watched the feet go by through the crack under the bottom of her door. _Well, at least they're going to sleep, finally._ She had been awake since an hour before, and she had been listening to them laughing. Laughing at her. _Stop that. They weren't laughing at you. Not that they didn't have good reason to._ She turned over to the face the wall opposite the door. _A *party*. What were you thinking, agreeing to a party? They don't even *like* you. They're probably just going to be polite._ That was funny. A month ago, Greta hadn't known anything about manners. She probably would've thought they were going to a *party* for her because they were being paid. _Maybe they *are* being paid. Ever think of that?_ Greta cursed herself, and turned over again.  
It was going to be a long night...  
  
***  
  
Eight hours later...  
  
***  
  
"For she's a jolly good fellow, for she's a jolly good fellow, for she's a jolly good fe-eh-llow! Which nobody can deny! Which nobody can deny, which nobody can-"  
"Okay, you've humiliated her enough now, you can quiet down," Ororo shushed them. Kurt had just *had* to insist on some kind of song. She turned to look at Greta, who looked like she was about to explode, judging by the color of her face. _Just when she's started coming out of her shell,_ Ororo thought regretfully. _Well, there's hope yet. She agreed to *come* to this party._ It was true, Greta had made astonishing progress over the past month, although she had seemed to focus mainly on the intellectual studies rather than the study of her powers. _At least she's managed to get up to high school level. Hmm, for all *we* know, she could continue to excel in her studies,_ Ororo thought with quiet amusement. _This girl could go on to do great things if she put her mind to it._  
None of the teenagers around Greta seemed to notice the shade of red on her cheeks as they brought out the cake. Kitty had insisted that she be allowed to bake it, and she was, but only under constant supervision (everyone still remembered the last time that Kitty had cooked *dinner*). It was a little sloppy around the edges, but it looked edible. Across the top, in purple icing, was scrawled: 'Happy First Day of High School, Greta!' Jean cut into the cake, and served everyone a slice. For Kitty's sake, no one made a face as they took the first bite. However, everyone managed to dispose of their cake quickly, claiming that they didn't have appetites. Logan was the only one who actually finished his piece.  
With a *BAMF* Kurt reappeared holding Greta's present from the teens. He stepped forward and puffed out his chest, presenting it to her proudly. There was a smug grin on each of their faces as she removed the bow from its cover gingerly and carefully read each of the messages surrounding the title. Slowly but surely, an enormous grin spread over her face. Ororo just smiled from the corner as she watched Greta jump up and hug each of her teammates. She received a surprised grin from most of them, and a shy one (with a blush) from Evan, in return. She stepped a bit closer to the group in the center of the room when she heard her nephew attempt to start up the conversation again.  
"Gee, uh, it's too bad you only get to go to school for a month until summer starts." The blush spread further across his face.  
"Yeah, I wanted to spend sum-more time with you guys in an actual school. I mean, I can just imagine what-cher like around large groups-a people."   
Ororo heard the Professor come up behind her. "She really has improved. It seems like just a few hours ago that she was speaking so softly you had to strain to hear her."  
She smiled. "Yes, I know what you mean. She really has improved enormously, hasn't she? And I'm glad, since she is such a good influence on Evan."  
"Oh?"  
"Haven't you noticed the way he goes quiet whenever he's around her?" There was a rather satisfied-looking grin on her face. "Makes it a great deal easier to speak to him."  
A very tiny smile appeared on the Professor's face. "Quite."  
  
***  
  
Yee-hoo! Wowie, is this thingie long! Hoo-barry! Lol, pardon my weird slang, I'm just really excited, is all. Gosh, I'm proud of myself (*swells with pride 'till she explodes*). Oh, and pardon my terrible approximation of Greta's speech. I'm so bad!!! Y'arghhh! Well, I don't really mean that. Hee-hee! Okay, I'm just blathering now, I'll shut up. Tell me whatcha think, if you want to. Your choice.  
:O) 


	10. School

Well, here it is! Chapter Ten. Oh, yeah. I hope this one's to your liking (enough so you'll review, *_* - by the way, that's my version of sad puppy eyes...yes, it's sad in itself, but oh well).   
:)  
  
***  
  
Chapter Ten: School  
  
***  
  
Judging by the look on Greta's face, *she* didn't feel like she was ready for high school yet.  
The entire group from the Institute had stopped right near the entrance to Bayville High, waiting for Greta. Kitty was speaking soft encouragement into the new girl's ear, while the rest of them stood around awkwardly, wondering what to do. Greta leaned her head back against the wall of the school, her heart pounding.  
_That's it. I've had it. No more crowds for me._ Ororo had taught her how to deal with the quick shifts in pressure, but the *noise* and the *movement*...Greta hadn't been prepared for those. During her entire time on the street, she had steered clear of the big crowds, always. She supposed it had been a fear of being trampled. Or it could be just a fear of crowds...what had Hank mentioned about that? Something-phobia? She'd have to look it up when she got back to the Institute. _*If* I get back ta th'Institute._  
"Greta, class is, like, going to start soon, do you want to, like, get going?" Greta looked once at the vast tide of people entering the school, then looked back to Kitty, her eyes wide.  
"What do *you* think?"  
"Look, you can't be, like, afraid forever. You have to, like, get this over, like, sometime, right? So why not do it now?" Greta thought this over and made her decision.  
_On top of everythin' else, I can't be a *coward*._ She felt Kitty's arm guiding her toward and through the double-doors, and was surprised when nothing significant happened when she passed through the doors, like a nuclear bomb going off, or trumpets playing fanfare (Note: I know my grammar really sucked in that sentence, but oh well, you get the point). Peering around as her eyes adjusted to the lower light, she could see the many students leaning against their lockers, chattering. Surprisingly, all the voices echoed in the narrow hall.   
"Well, I have to get to homeroom," said Scott, interrupting Greta's thoughts. "Kitty, you'll help Greta find her first class, won't you?"  
"Like, sure! Actually, we, like, have the same homeroom." Scott nodded, smiling, and Greta watched, a little scared, as her friends parted and went their separate ways, leaving her alone with Kitty in middle of the crowded hallway. She managed a weak smile at her perky friend, who went on: "Chemistry's our first class, isn't that, like, cool? I think you'll, like, like chemistry. I mean, you, like, seemed to enjoy it when Beast was, like, teaching it to you, and our class is, like, studying pressure right now, so I think that'll, like, be right up your alley." Kitty's ponytail bounced as she spoke, and she was smiling brightly.   
"So, uh...which way?" Greta was unused to speaking in such a loud place, and her words were almost lost amid the clamor.  
"Like, this way, come on!" Grabbing Greta's arm, Kitty pulled her down the hallway and into a classroom. "After this, like, period ends, we can, like, find your locker, 'kay?" She sat down in a desk near the back, and Greta followed suit. "And you know, this class was, like, soooo much better when Mr. McCoy was, like, the teacher. We, like, made stink bombs and stuff, you know? But then, well, you know the story." Greta was about to correct and say that, no, actually, she didn't know the story, but then the teacher walked up to the front of the room and began the lesson. Greta would have been really interested, but, unfortunately, the lesson started with the teacher's:  
"We have a new student in class today. I'd like you all to meet Greta." Greta spent the rest of the class trying to hide her blush and pay attention at the same time. She actually had it working quite well, but when she had just coaxed her cheeks to return to something resembling a normal color, the bell rang. Following Kitty, Greta made for the door as quickly as she could, hoping to avoid the words from the teacher that she knew were coming, the words she was dreading, please don't let her speak to me, please-  
"Greta would you mind if we spoke for a minute?" She looked to Kitty, desperate for help.  
"I'll, like, wait for you outside, 'kay, Greta?" And with an encouraging smile and a flick of her ponytail, Greta's only support was gone. Greta went stiff as a board and turned around the face the teacher, who looked stern.   
"It says here that your name is just," she peered down at the clipboard. "'Greta'. Is this a misprint?"  
Oh. So she was just looking for information about her *name*. Phew, that was a relief. "No, M-Miss, M-Miss...uh..."  
"Turse. Mrs. Turse."  
"Mrs. Turse." She laughed nervously. "Sorry. No, m'name's just Greta. I hope you're not offended?"  
"I don't see why I would have any reason to be offended, Greta, I'm just confused. I just have one last question before you go, though."  
Greta braced herself.  
"Are you sure you're going to be able to do the homework?"  
Relief flooded her body and her voice. "Uh, yeah, of course, Mrs. Turse. Chemistry's my..." she searched for the right word. "...my fav'rite subject. And I got what you were sayin' today, about the force times surface area and stuff?" She smiled. "It's no prob'."  
"All right, if you're sure. Well, thank you, Greta, I'm glad we had this chat."  
Following nearly all the classes that that Greta attended, the teachers performed the same ritual. Once she got through the first few, her conversations with teachers got a lot easier. The time flew by, and before she knew it, it was lunchtime.  
  
  
"Hey, Spyke, man, snap out of it!"  
"Yeah, dude, you've done nothin' all this time but stare at that girl! Don't you want to hear about this *awesome* new trick we came up with?"  
"Huh? Did you guys say something?"   
"Oh-ho, man! He's whipped!"  
"Yeah, what's up with this, man? We thought you were cool."  
"Yeah, we made a pact, dude! No goin' after girls 'till we quit 'boardin'!" The two exchanged a high five.  
Not breaking his gaze, Evan muttered "I'm not going after her, I'm just lookin' at her." He had his chin cupped in his hand.  
"Dude, look at this kid! He's hardly even blinkin'!"  
"Why don't you just go sit with her, man?"  
_Why don't I just go sit with her? 'Cause she's afraid of me,_ Evan thought, but all he said was "Dunno," with a shrug.  
"Oh, man! He really likes her! Wait 'till the other guys hear about this!"  
"Wait, dude. How do you know he really likes her?"  
"Uh, I heard somewhere that if they don't really answer you when you ask 'em a question, then they...uh...then they really like the girl."  
"Oh."  
"Yeah."  
"Hey, so should we tell the kids at the Institute? That oughta make Spyke here happy." He gave his friend a nudge. Evan didn't react. He just watched Greta eating her food and laughing shyly at his teammates' jokes.  
  
  
Greta watched Kurt look up from his food for the first time since they had sat down. "Uh-oh, here comes trouble."  
Everyone turned to see what he was looking at, and everyone but Greta immediately put up their guard when they saw (Note: Dun, dun, DUN!) the Brotherhood.  
Lance was at the head of the group, and Pietro and Todd formed a triangle behind him. Fred was the backdrop. They advanced slowly, with quite a bit of arrogance in their strides (or hops). Scott stood up and was just about ready to say something to Lance (actually, he had something pretty rude in mind), but before he could speak, Evan was in front of the table.  
"You got a problem, Alvers?" he asked, his face twisted up into something of a snarl.  
"No problem," said Avalanche coolly. "Just want to talk to your lady friend, here." He gestured at Greta. At this Greta's eyes widened.  
"Why?" Scott came up behind Evan, his arms crossed.  
"Oh, no particular reason," Lance replied, running a hand through his hair. "She's just kinda cute. Thought I'd ask her on a date."  
Behind the two X-Men, Greta blushed.  
"She's not joining the Brotherhood, *Avalanche,* so you can just give it *up,*" Evan said through clenched teeth. His hands were balled into fists, and his eyes were narrowed. "Take a hike."  
"Sure. No problem." He stole a glance at Greta. "Just remember, though: we wanted to talk to you. Give us a try." They walked away with the same confident stride, leaving the X-Men to calm themselves down.  
"Who were those guys?"  
Scott groaned. "It's a long story," he began...  
  
***  
  
"So what did you think of high school?" Jean and Greta were strolling down the hallway from Greta's bedroom; they had just dropped off their books and were heading downstairs for an afternoon snack. Greta smiled.  
"Well, the cafeteria food lived up to legend." Laughing, Jean replied:  
"Yeah, well, I prefer the cafeteria food any day next to packed lunches. When we did *that*, we had to take turns packing them, and you would not *believe* what some people packed us. Just imagine: pure calories one day, celery the next." Greta laughed. "Hey, have you thought up a codename yet?"  
"Actually, I had an idea for one today. In chemistry, we were talking about pressure, and-"  
Just then, Kitty ran by looking pissed. The two in the hall watched, fascinated, as she ran into her room and slammed the door. They stood back, arms folded, as they listened to Kitty shriek with rage and throw things about her room. There was a moment of complete silence, then the sound of a 'phone being picked up and dialed.  
"Hello, Lance? Like, hi! How's it, like, going? Really? Like, that good?"  
The observers watched casually as a very dejected Kurt slumped by. A box of chocolates dangled at his side. A single rose (thorn-free, of course), was clutched in his tail. Without even acknowledging Jean's or Greta's existence, he heaved a great sigh and closed the door to his room softly.  
Jean was the first to speak. "This is known, around here, as the 'Moonstruck Effect,'" she observed, as though diagnosing someone as having a head cold.  
"'Moonstruck Effect'?" Greta repeated.  
"It has to do with the movie 'Moonstruck.' I can't explain it unless you've seen it. Come on," she said, waving Greta downstairs. "We'll watch it. Want me to make popcorn?"  
"Okay." Greta followed behind, dazed, but ready to watch this alleged 'Moonstruck.'  
  
***  
  
Yee-hoo! I finished it, I finished it! Hey, what do you think of my new title? Pretty spiffy, huh? Yeah, I know, it sucks, but I couldn't think of anything better. Anywho, review, please! I hope you liked it. To tell you the truth, I was kind of out of it tonight, but...I hope you liked it! (*Hopeful smile*) Please say you liked it? *_* Hee-hee, there are the puppy-dog eyes again! 


	11. Moonstruck, Past-Spelunking, & The Mushy...

Ahhhh! I've been found out! Yes, Kitty's probably going to be a little P.O.ed that Lance went for Greta, but all that will be explained in my next fic (which I was trying to keep a secret, but some secrets I just can't keep), a Kurtty (my favorite). I'm the kind of person who's obsessed with plots that twine together and crap like that, so I'm writing another fic to go alongside this one. :) I know it's really sad, but, there ya go.  
I'm sorry I took so long to update, but I was a little...less than inspired to write. But I'm back! And to compensate for my lack of update, I've written you this lovely extra-long chapter. Hopefully, from now on, they'll all be *at least* this long! Enjoy!  
  
***  
  
Chapter Eleven: Moonstruck, Past-Spelunking, & The Mushy Stuff  
  
***  
  
Jean sniffled, wiping a tear from her eye with the last tissue. "I love that ending, don't you?" Her voice was quavering.  
Greta sat stony-faced beside her on the couch, silently scolding herself for wanting to cry. It *was* a happy ending, and she *did* love it.  
"I don't get it. What does that movie have to do with Kurt and Kitty?" Jean laughed.  
"I forgot all about that! I'm sorry. Let me explain." She took a deep breath. (Note: for all those who haven't seen Moonstruck, too bad, I'm gonna go ahead and connect it for those who *have* seen it.) "You know when Ronnie tells Loretta he loves her?" Greta nodded. "And then she slaps him? Well, it's the same thing with Kitty and Kurt."  
"What, did she slap 'im?"  
"No, no," Jean said, laughing. "No, but when...when he tried to make a move on her, you know, by asking her out...well, she reacted badly and rejected his advances, just like Loretta did to Ronnie. See?" Brow furrowed, Greta nodded again. "Hmm, we can only hope that they complete the motion. Maybe Kurt will ask Kitty out and she'll accept. You never know." (Note: See? See? Kurtty Romance! You'll be seeing more of it in my other fic...if I ever get to writing it)   
"But why did Kitty call Lance?" _And isn't Lance that mean kid who was buggin' us at lunch today?_  
"Um, you know how Loretta slaps Ronnie in the movie? It's sort of a reflex for her, just like calling Lance is a reflex for Kitty. And, yes, Lance was the kid at lunch."  
"Why is calling *him* a reflex for her?"  
"Because-" Jean paused for a moment. "You know, I really don't know. She has no *reason* to *like* him, but she still enjoys his presence for some reason. I'll have to ask her about that." She paused for another few seconds. "Hey, how did you do on your homework?"  
"Okay. It was easy."  
"Hmm. Well," she said, standing up. "I have to go to a training session this afternoon. You want to come watch?"  
"Actually, I was hoping she would come and speak with me." The girls looked up to see the Professor in the doorway.  
"How do you *do* that?" Greta asked. He always seemed to come into a room at *exactly* the right time to interrupt a conversation.  
That slight smile appeared on his face. "Call it a gift." He shifted his gaze to Jean. "Would you excuse us, please? Greta and I have important matters to discuss."  
"Sure, Professor." The telepath went off to change into her uniform. Once she had left, and closed the door behind her, Xavier wheeled over the carpet until he was facing Greta, still seated on the couch.  
"Greta," he began...  
  
***  
  
Evan tore down the hallway, racing for his room, although he wasn't entirely sure *why* he was doing it. But when he reached the door to Kitty and Rogue's room, he stopped abruptly (you could almost hear his sneakers squealing on the carpet). Leaning in, he could hear Kitty talking to (who else?) Lance over her phone. Somehow, she didn't sound quite as perky as she usually did. God only knew where Rogue was...  
Somewhat tentatively, as he had *never* done anything like this before, Evan knocked on the door. Kitty's speech stopped short.  
"Lance, can you hold on a sec'? No, for just a second. Listen, just hold on! You can complain about Toad's stench in a minute! Lance, I'm - I'm going to - oh, shut up, Lance." There was the harsh click of a phone being slammed into a receiver. "Like, who's there?"  
Evan was starting to regret the *thought*, now..."Uh. It's me. Uh, Evan." Kitty opened the door and hung on the doorframe, tapping her toe (Note: Does anyone ever tap their toe besides me? No? Oh, well.) in her impatience.   
"Evan? Like, what do *you* want?"  
"Uh...I...uh..."  
"Spit it out!"   
"Uh, have you seen Greta?" Kitty rolled her eyes.  
"No, I have, like, no idea where your girlfriend is, Evan. Now can you please stop stuttering and get out of my face?"  
"Hey, she's not my girlfriend!" Evan squeaked. "I mean, I don't *like* her or anything! She's just a-" Kitty slammed the door in his face. "Hey, do you know if Kurt's in?" he yelled through the door.  
"How should *I* know?!" Boy, did she sound pissed.   
_Maybe she's P.M.S.ing or something,_ Evan thought as he wandered over to Kurt's door. He knocked softly, as their seemed to be total silence in the room. _He's probably not in, it's so quiet._  
There was a horribly depressed-sounding "Come in" from behind the door. With some trepidation, Evan opened the door slowly and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. As soon as it clicked shut, he was blind. For some reason, all the lights were off.   
"Hey, Kurt?"  
"Hier."   
_Man, I gotta get outta here. This is *way* too much depression for *me*._ "Have you seen Greta?" _Uh-oh, maybe I better ask him what's got him down..._  
Groan. "Why don't you just ask her out, man?" A pause. "Not that *that* has much effect."   
"You asked her out?!" Evan's hands balled into fists.  
Another groan. "No, *dummkopf.* But I won't bother you with my problems right now. It's obvious you're not *interested.*" There was a rustle as he turned over on the bed. "I thought I heard her and Jean talking about the Moonstruck Effect. I think they went to watch it. But that was over an hour ago," he mumbled into his blanket.  
"They went to watch the Moonstruck Effect?" Kurt groaned loudly. "Ohhh. Thanks, Kurt!" Evan beat it like there wasn't a tomorrow (Note: Does that make sense? Well, I like it).  
  
***  
  
"Greta, when you first came here, I asked you about your past. Do you remember?" Immediately, Greta tensed up. Her hand shot to her pocket, where she could feel her card - still there. How could he ask her now? She thought that the Professor had let it drop...but here it was again. Her past.  
"I don't want to talk about it," she said coldly, then realized that she sounded exactly like the movie she had just watched.  
"We must get these things out in the open, Greta," he said, steepling his hands in front of his face. "It's not healthy to just let them lie."  
"I don't want to *talk* about it," Greta said, more fiercely this time.  
_Greta, I only want to help you. Will it hurt you to talk about these things?_ Greta opened her mouth to repeat what she had said previously, but then she snapped her jaw closed. *Would* it hurt? She really didn't know *why* she kept these things a secret from her friends. On the streets, it was to avoid harrassment, but here...why couldn't she tell them?  
"I..." she stopped at the sound of her own voice. The room seemed so empty now. It seemed like the Professor was the only person around for *miles*. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I don't know anything about my past."  
The Professor sat back in his chair. "You must know *something*. What's the farthest back you can remember?" He didn't seem surprised that she was sharing this information at all. He simply wanted to know more. To help her.  
"M - my name..." she trailed off, thinking hard.   
"Yes?" he prompted, patient as always.  
"I didn't know for sure how old I was, but somebody asked me my name. And I didn't know. Didn't know my own name...so I named m'self. And they laughed at me. They called me a dog..." She fell silent, and held back the tears. How could she open up so quickly? And with so painful a memory? _Maybe it's 'cause you *trust* him, stupid._  
"You were seven or eight, weren't you?" Brow creased, she nodded to the wall. She heard him lean forward once more. "You can tell me, Greta. I'm here for you. It's alright to cry." Haltingly, she went through her life, at least the events she remembered. She explained about the business card, and surprised herself when she took it out to show him. She told him everything, but she didn't cry as he had suggested. It wasn't worth crying about. It was the past.  
"But it doesn't matter anymore," she finished. "It isn't happenin' now, so it doesn't matter."  
"On the contrary. I think it matters very much." She just bit her lip. "Greta, with your permission, I'd like to do some more...research on your past. I'd like to find out what happened to you to leave you on the streets that way. Will you permit me?" Dipping her gaze to the floor, Greta nodded silently. "Alright. I'm very glad we had this talk, Greta. I think it did you a great deal of good." For once seeming a little unsure of himself, Xavier reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise, and felt a small smile tugging at her lips. She stood up to go, turning her back on him as she grew closer to the door.  
Hesitantly, she turned around and looked at him again. "Thanks, Professor." He nodded, and she turned towards the door again.  
"Oh, and Greta?" Puzzled, she turned. "Would you like to be a member of our team? Would you like to be an X-Man?"  
Greta smiled. "Sure."  
  
***  
  
Evan paced in his room, back and forth, covering the area quickly. With an annoyed look, he sat down on his bed. Suddenly determined, he stood up and headed for the door. One pace outside, however, he turned around and walked back to the bed again. He sank down on it, only to get back up and pace again. Once again, he sat down on the bed, and once again he stood up with that determined look. This time he only got halfway to the door before turning back. He repeated this process a few times before pounding his pillow in frustration.  
"Kurt's right. I should just - I should just *do* something. Ask her out, *something*." He paused. "Who am I *talking* to?!" He hit his pillow, then stood up with that determined look again. "That's it. I'm gonna go watch that movie with her." He made it to the doorframe, but then turned back immediately when he saw Greta walking down the hallway, looking tired. He flinched to himself with each step she made as she walked into her room and closed the door softly. Slumping against the wall, Evan said, "Well. That's out." With a growl, he pounced on his homework, determined to get his mind off Greta once and for all.   
After all, he had already wasted an hour and a half of his afternoon. Thinking about her was getting him nowhere. He'd just have to impress her with something. Maybe his skateboarding skills?  
"Argghh!" _There I go again! Alright, genius, you want to impress her so bad? Try impressing her with your good grades._ Evan sat down and spent the next hour debating internally, staring at his English homework all the while.  
  
***  
  
Ta-da! Okay, I apologize for all the mushiness about Greta's past, but I had to get it down *somehow*. Heh-heh.  
Please tell me what you thought of this chapter. Inspire me to write more! Please! Otherwise I'll just wind up sitting on my story idea again. :D  
Review!  
:) 


	12. A Chilling Conversation

Listen, people, this is really starting to bug me, so does anyone think they could give me a quick tutoring of how to use html? Thanks. :D Enjoy the chapter!  
  
***  
  
Chapter Twelve: A Chilling Conversation  
  
***  
  
Greta immediately forgot about any outside problems as soon as she entered the enormous, round room. "So - so this is the Cerebro that everyone was talkin' about?"  
"Yes," Beast answered in tones to match the quiet girl's. "It is rather impressive, isn't it?"  
"Yeah, it's okay, I guess," she said, glancing sideways at him. As the pair reached the computer in the center of the room, Greta said softly: "Hey, Professor. What's up?"  
"Ah, just the person I wanted to see," the wheelchaired man said, turning said wheelchair and removing his headset. Greta just looked at him. "Yes, ahem, well," he continued awkwardly. Beast smiled from behind his student, putting a broad hand on her shoulder. "You said that you were going to allow me to do some research into your past, correct?" She blinked at him. "Quite. Well, I've been doing some looking, but I'm afraid it's near impossible to find anything out about it without some help from your end."  
"What do you want me to do?"  
"Well, for one thing I'd like to know anything you remember about when you first found yourself on the streets. Any landmarks you saw? Anything at all that stands out in your memory?"  
Images flashed behind Greta's eyes. She stared blankly into the dark space beyond the Professor's shoulder for a moment, biting the inside of her lip. Xavier and Dr. McCoy watched her retreat even farther into herself, and thought that perhaps she wasn't going to respond, until she spoke so softly that neither of them could hear, her lips barely parting to form the words.  
Xavier didn't want to disturb her in her reverie, for fear of hurting her emotionally, so he tentatively reached out with his mind to 'see' her surface thoughts at least, just to get a glimpse at what she was going through. All he could sense was...fear. Pure fear. The kind that children have late at night when their room is just light enough for them to see the shadows and what might be contained in them. The kind of fear that could make the bravest person he'd ever met curl into a fetal ball and weep. Instinctively he drew back, both physically and mentally, and realized that Greta was now speaking loudly enough to hear.  
"No, I won't give it to you, it's all I've got." Her words were at her normal volume, but they seemed more timid than usual. Eyelids flickered shut as she drew in a deep breath. When she next spoke, her voice had changed, gotten more gruff. It was almost as if she was repeating something someone else had said.  
"Aw, y'er a cute liddle kiddie, ain'tcha? I seen thatcha got somethin' else - ya put it in yer pocket, din-cha? Why don'tcha give that'n to me, too?"  
"No!" The voice was still quiet, but it was growing in intensity.  
"Come on, kid!" Angrier this time. "Give it to me!"  
"Why do you want it anyway?!"  
"Give it to me!"  
"No!" Both voices has raised to near-shouting now, and each time the gruff voice spoke her face twisted into a vicious snarl.  
"Then I'll take it from ya!"  
"*No!* You smell bad! I don't wanna talk to you anymore!"  
"Give it *here*!"  
"No!"  
Just then, the authoritative voice broke in. It sounded older than both of the others. "Hey, what's goin' on here? You botherin' this kid?" Changing back to the timid persona, Greta nodded slowly, eyes still closed. "Hey, bug off, will ya?"  
The gruff voice was back. "Okay, okay, I'm leavin'." Then it muttered, "Stupid kid."  
"Thanks," said the timid voice. Then suddenly Greta's eyes snapped open, and her head jerked up slightly. She took a deep, shaky breath, then began to shudder. It was a moment before anyone spoke again. "What in tha hell just happened?" Greta asked, her mask-like face starting to falter into an expression of fear.  
Dr. McCoy put his hand back onto her shoulder (it had fallen off while she was acting out her peculiar drama), and gave the shoulder a little squeeze. "Repressed memories," said the Professor softly. "This is more serious than I thought." Steepling his hands in front of his face, he creased his brow in thought.  
"Do you think she should spend time in the medical wing?" Beast inquired.  
Professor X looked up at Greta again. "Do *you* think you should, Greta?"  
"Not until you tell me what in tha hell just happened."  
"You've just acted out something that I fear you've repressed for many years. Do you remember any of it now?"  
"Just somethin' about bein' scared." That made him increase the intensity of his gaze on her, and she shifted uncomfortably, a subtle expression of discomfort coming over her features. "You want me to keep tellin' you 'bout stuff so you can do research and crap?"  
The Professor was still thoughtful. "Yes, I think you should be fine on your own tonight." Then he switched back to normal. "I'm sorry. Um...I think I would just like to copy down the information on your business card, if that could be possible. And, uh..." He turned to the blue figure behind Greta. "I'm sorry, Hank, but would you mind leaving the room a moment?"  
McCoy nodded and left. Xavier waited until the door had hissed shut behind him before speaking again. "Would you permit me to...probe your mind? If only for that memory that you just acted out for us?"  
Greta was still confused, but she nodded her consent anyway. She could almost feel his presence in her mind, but, luckily, the feeling only lasted for about half a minute. She shuddered slightly again when she saw the change in his eyes when he returned to his own head. Before she could blink, he was all business again. Putting his headset back on, he turned back to Cerebro. "Thank you, Greta, you've given me much to work with," he dismissed her. Thoroughly creeped out, but careful not to show it, she exited the dim room, greeting Hank at the door. As she walked slowly to the Danger Room, she began to puzzle over the exchange. As if she didn't have enough to think about already.  
  
***  
  
Huzzah! I'm *back*, baby, back and kickin'! Okay, I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this chapter, but I've been feeling kinda gloomy lately, and I finally think I got that dull feeling outta me. This is why I say "huzzah." For those of you reading this: please review and tell me what you think. But, um...if you have to tell me something bad, could you use some tact in saying it, if only to leave my pathetic little emotional barrier unharmed? Thanks.  
Oh, and: much more to come! I'm on a writing *streak* now! 


	13. Strange, Enchanting Thoughts

Yo, yo, I want to send a shout-out to my peeps who reviewed!  
  
liquid mercury: I'm sorry for addicting you to my fic, but to make up for it I will use your suggestion in the upcoming chapters.  
  
Weary-traveler: I'm glad I'm keeping you interested. I hope I continue to do so. :)  
  
Exploding Plastic Inevitable: But you're my *favorite* be-falsettoed legume! I thought you knew that already. :D  
  
And now, on with the fic! Enjoy!  
  
***  
  
Chapter Thirteen: Strange, Enchanting Thoughts  
  
***  
  
At dinner, Greta was quiet. This, in itself, was not unusual, but something that *was* unusual was the way that she hadn't looked at another person since she had walked in, nodded at the Professor, and sat down. This was contrary to the norm, since usually she would at least watch everybody having their conversations, adding a soft comment when she felt it was necessary, with a faint but pleasant smile on her face. Evan knew this because he watched her every night at dinner. Hell, he watched every day, whether it was dinner or not. To tell the truth, it was beginning to worry him more than it was worrying his friends. The way he stopped in his tracks every time she walked into his line of sight - it had almost gotten him killed, more than once, when he did it on his skateboard.  
But he couldn't stop doing it. He also couldn't figure out *why* he was doing it, which was a puzzle that bothered him to no end. Showing an interest in girls was unusual, true, but this wasn't the first time he'd done it. But the only other times that he'd shown interest in girls was if they were tough - if they could stand up to him at some sport or another. He smiled slightly as he picked at his beets, remembering that one girl in fifth grade who had shown him up at basketball - oh, Greta was moving! She raised her eyes high enough from her food to glance in his direction. As quickly as he could, Evan darted his eyes down at his food, feeling the blood rise to his face. She'd seen him looking, hadn't she, he knew she'd seen him looking-  
"Hey, Evan, what do you think, man?" Kurt, oblivious to the entire exchange between the X-Men's quietest member and the X-Men's loudest-up-until-recently member, jabbed his best friend in the ribs, causing Evan to splutter and look up at him, confused. "Well?"  
It took a few seconds, but then Evan realized what was going on, and blushed even harder, saying awkwardly, "I think that you should leave me alone, that's what I think." Kurt shrugged and turned back to the animated conversation he was having with Kitty and Jean, leaving Evan to stare back into his beets.   
  
Meanwhile, halfway down the table, another X-Man was staring into her beets. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed Evan and his antics. _What was that whole thing about, earlier?_ she thought, poking at her meatloaf. _And why wouldn't the Professor tell me any more about it? He seemed pretty creeped out, but...I should know what's going on, right? I have a *right* to know._ Her questions raised another. _Why can't I remember? He said something about a "repressed memory," but...well..."repressed" means "held down," right? So...memories that I've been holding down? Ugh, I'm not hungry,_ she thought, pushing her chair out forcefully. Without thinking, she let her eyes dart around the table at her new friends. That was when she spotted the only person who had noticed her stand up - the rest were too absorbed in their conversations. Evan. He had been watching her anyway, and as her gaze drifted over him, for just a second, their eyes locked. As quickly as she could, she turned away and headed for the door.  
_Why does he keep looking at me like that?_  
  
***  
  
Greta lay in her bed with her hands crossed behind her head, staring at the ceiling. The sun had just begun to go down, and it was that time of day/night that, in the city, she used to enjoy the most, since the light was perfect that you could see into any lit windows on the street. High up above her, in the skyscrapers, she could see the silhouettes of people working late, getting ready for bed, serving dinner...all the normal things that people would do. But right at this moment, Greta wasn't thinking about her city-days, or about what she knew she *should* have been thinking about - her conversation with the Professor earlier, and her past - no, Greta was thinking about that look that had always seemed to appear on Evan's face when he was looking at her.  
That expression had been forcing its way into her mind for weeks, because she knew it *shouldn't* have been familiar to her, and yet it *was.* She couldn't remember having seen it during her time on the streets...who on earth would wear that lovesick expression that *she* had known during her time there? But there was that bizarre sense of deja vu, tearing away at her sense of what was real, solid.   
The meaning of the expression was still lost on her, and she was beginning to go crazy wondering what it meant. While she had been annoyed about Evan's excessive staring before, however, she was now a little...well, glad of the attention. Nobody had looked at her in that particular way before, of course, but she had a hunch that it was a good thing.  
Ugh! Why was she dwelling on this so much? Weren't there more important things to think about?! Greta bit the inside of her lip, and her brow furrowed, more than she would let anyone else see. She was about to do one of the most difficult things she'd ever done in her life, something she'd never done, but was, nevertheless, *determined* to do: she was going to ask someone for help. After all, hadn't Dr. McCoy taught her that if she couldn't figure something out, she should get help with it?   
Rather suddenly to the outside observer, Greta pushed herself off her bed and headed for the door, biting her lip visibly now. Once she had her hand on the doorknob, she paused. Sure, she had resolved to ask somebody...but who? Closing her eyes briefly, she made her decision, then with her jaw locked in a determined position, she opened the door and strode down the hall.  
  
***  
  
Rogue was just settling into _Interview with a Vampire_ for what seemed like the seventieth time when she heard a knock on the door she shared with Kitty. She stopped herself from asking Kitty to answer it - the child-like teen herself was downstairs, trying to figure out if she should be friends with Kurt again or not - and closed her book with a sigh, and stood up to answer the door. It opened with a click, and Rogue was rather surprised to see who was standing there. "Greta? What are you doin' up here?" She opened the door a little wider to let her quiet friend in. "I would've thought you'd be downstairs watchin' movies with everyone else."  
The girl stepped slowly inside, and it was then that Rogue noticed, with a cocked eyebrow, that she was wearing a slightly more determined expression than Rogue had ever seen adorning her face - heck, Rogue had never seen her wearing *any* expression. "No," Greta answered curtly, brow knitted; she obviously had something on her mind.  
"What's botherin' you?" Rogue asked, curious.  
"I've been-" she glanced at Kitty's bed. Rogue gestured for her to sit down, and she complied, waiting for Rogue to sit down on her own bed before starting again. "I've been seeing - uh - Evan...watchin' me for some time now, an' I was wondering, well, exactly *why* he was doin' it." She took a deep breath. Rogue noticed that she was speaking a great deal more boldly than she did usually, and figured that this issue was really buggin' her. "He makes this face when he looks at me, too - it's somethin' like this." She closed her eyes for a second, thinking, then did her best impression of what Evan looked like when he was staring at her. It was all Rogue could do not to laugh. "Can ya tell me what it means?"  
The Southerner looked at her for a second, then gave her a rare half-smile. "It means that he likes ya," she said bluntly. Greta looked confused. "You know. Like, romantically?"  
Greta's eyes widened. "Like Kurt likes Kitty?" Rogue nodded slowly. "Like in *_Moonstruck_*?" Another nod. "No way!" (Note: Been awhile since I used one of those for Greta, eh?)  
"Yes, way."  
"Why don't other people say anythin' about it?"  
"To tell ya the truth, I think I'm the only one who's noticed, besides you. They're all too busy with their own stuff, and besides, Evan usually keeps matters like this to himself - the only reason *I* noticed is 'cause he doesn't bug me half as much."  
Greta looked serious for a moment. "What do ya think I should do 'bout it?"  
"Depends on how you feel about it. Like if it's really buggin' ya, you could ask him to cut it out." At Greta's expression, "Or you could ask someone else to ask him to cut it out. Either way. Or you could..." She trailed off.  
"Or I could what?" Rogue just looked at her. "What?"  
"Well, if you like him back, ya could..." She trailed off again. Greta started to bite her lip. "Ya could...ask him out."  
"What?!"  
"You know, make a move! Brush up against him or somethin', see how he reacts! But...well, are you ready for a romantic entanglement?"  
"I..." she squared her jaw. "I could handle it," she said almost defiantly.  
"But the question is, do you want it? Do ya like him?"  
"I...don't know." She dropped her gaze to the floor between them. "Maybe," she mumbled.  
"I see," Rogue said. "Well, it's up to you. But, listen, I won't tell anyone 'bout this if you don't want me to."  
Greta looked up at her again, then stood up, still looking at her. "Thanks, Rogue," she said finally. "You're a great friend." And with that she made her exit.  
"Pfft, lovebirds," Rogue dismissed after Greta left, turning again to face her book. She was quickly enmeshed in Anne Rice's writing, and nearly forgot the whole exchange had happened by the second page.  
  
***  
  
Yay! Now we're gettin' somewhere! Coming up soon: more romance, and news about Greta's past. It'll come faster if you give me good reviews (nudge, nudge, wink, wink), and even *faster* if you give me a short html tutorial. :D 


	14. Time Out To Think

Short chapter, I know. I wrote the reason down at the bottom, so...just read the chapter. And enjoy what's here! :D  
  
***  
  
Chapter Fourteen: Time Out To Think  
  
***  
  
Greta spent most of the next day in school appraising Evan; it was lucky that school was nearly out for the summer, so that there was little else to do during the day. Usually, she would just bring a book to occupy herself, but this time all she brought was a pen in her notebook. It wasn't like she was taking notes on him or anything (she may have been out of the social loop, but she did know *some* things), but, rather, she used the notebook to try to be nonchalant about her 'spying' - after all, if she decided not to "make a move," as Rogue had put it, she didn't want him finding out she was at least interested enough to find out more about him.  
  
Settling in to her first class, Geometry, she took a long, hard look at the back of Evan's head. Seeing as it was a math class, one of those classes where teachers just didn't know when to quit, Mr. Dawson strode to the front of the classroom and began to lecture about triangles or something-or-other, hardly noticing when all except the incredibly prudent students (Note: Hey, I rhymed!) tuned him out to concentrate on other things. _I don't know much about hair-styles,_ Greta thought, opening her notebook, _but I would have to say this one is...unusual._ Then again, everyone was entitled to their own style, Greta had learned, unusual or not. On the checklist on the inside of her eyelids, she marked herself off as "neutral" about Evan's hair. Then she pulled out her pen from a pocket in her medium-sized cargo pants and began to "concentrate" intensely on her first doodle of the day.  
  
The rest of the schoolday was spent in much the same way (Note: I rhymed again!). Whenever Evan wasn't looking at her, Greta was looking at him, making note of all the mannerisms she cared to think about - the way he spoke to his friends, the way he leaned on his elbow and stared into space when lost in thought, the way a sparkle shone in his eyes when someone made him laugh...  
  
_Whoa, wait a minute, what am I thinking?!_ She began to bite her lip again at lunch, a slight concerned expression coming over her face. Her friends tried to ask her what was wrong, but they fell back when she simply assured them that she was "gonna miss school." Rogue knew to leave well enough alone, however, and continued to mind her own business for the rest of the day - she knew the girl was a newbie when it came to this stuff, and, while she wasn't going to butt her way into the situation, she was more than willing to lend a helping hand should she be asked.  
  
Come the end of the day, Greta felt that she had sorted out all the facts that she needed to know. All that was left to do was ponder them. She bit her lip as she walked towards Scott's car, ready to go home and think for the rest of the evening, when she looked up to see that there was nobody waiting for her in the car. Puzzled, she turned back to look at the school for any clues, only to see Kitty running up to her, in full uniform.  
"What's wrong?" asked Greta, confused.  
  
"It's the Brotherhood," Kitty replied, a little winded. "They're trashing the cafeteria - unprovoked. C'mon, we need your help!" She grabbed the wrist of the bewildered teen and began jogging back towards the building. Greta had no choice but to follow.  
  
"Aren't the students gonna see us?"  
  
"No, they've all cleared out! They scattered at the first tremor!" There was a small note of melancholy in Kitty's voice as she said 'tremor.'   
  
"Do I hafta change into my uniform?"  
  
"No time. Don't worry, Greta, I'm sure you'll do fine anyway." This was Greta's first skirmish with the Brotherhood. In fact, it was the first time she'd ever been called on by the X-Men to use her powers out of the Danger Room. She just hoped that she'd be a help, not a setback.  
  
They reached the cafeteria, and already Greta could see there was going to be trouble. The four mutants had gone crazy with the spray paint, and, while the lettering was creative, the message contained was certainly not going to help anyone better digest their meals (Note: And they're gonna need all the help they can get). Silly string littered the floor, as well as the former contents of several large trash bins. Tables had been smashed in half, trampled, slimed, dented, smashed into walls, scorched, stuck to the ceiling, and nearly every other form of destruction imaginable to the imaginative table (Note: hee-hee). A wide, open space had been formed in the melee, somewhere near the middle of the large room, and that's where the skirmish was centered. Their opponents had obviously been training more than usual, since, from what Greta had been told, their fighting skills were much improved. Biting her lip, Greta was quick to join the fight.  
  
  
***  
  
End of Chapter Fourteen. I was going to do a whole bunch more here, but I couldn't decide what I wanted to happen. So, I'm asking anyone who's reading to give me suggestions (that *aren't* incredibly predictable, like my ideas were). Here were the ideas that I had:  
  
1) Have Evan get injured (too predictable).  
  
2) Have Greta get distracted by Evan, then get injured (too sappy, plus she's already been injured once. Don't want to repeat myself and have her too vulnerable).  
  
3) Have Greta kick a lotta ass because of excess anger (don't you think she has enough problems already?).  
  
4) Have the Brotherhood win (my sister's suggestion - in my opinion, not really a flying chance in hell of this happening).  
  
5) Have Greta kick a lotta ass and move on (my most promising idea, but I thought it seemed too anticlimactic).  
  
So, what do you think? Do you have any suggestions as to where I go next? I mean, I have this whole plan for when the fight's over, but I *had* to include the fight to as to space out the story, also to show Greta having some combat experience, and...aw, crap. Well, I'm stuck here, so *please* give me some suggestions. I'm begging you. :D 


	15. Fight, fight, fight!

In case I hadn't already said so (I don't know if I have, since FF.Net has been down, and I don't know where all my files are), Greta's codename is "Torr," which is a unit for measuring pressure. Hey, I *did* learn something in Chemistry! Torr is pronounced "tore," like the past tense of "tear." Just wanted to let you guys know that, in case you got confused. :D  
  
***  
  
From her training Greta knew precisely what to do first: find a teammate who was having trouble and help them handle it. Shadowcat (Greta had to force herself to think in codenames) had rushed out to help Jean (no trouble there), who was having difficulty handling Quicksilver. He was mocking her, zipping around her so quickly that a miniature dust storm was created. Shadowcat phased through the blur to stand next to Jean, who had her fingers practically glued to her temples as she tried to get a telekinetic handle on the speedster. Greta knew that she should help them, but she wasn't sure precisely how to do it. Their opponent was moving too fast for her to get a good shot of pressure at him.  
  
An idea occurred to her. _Jean,_ she called with her mind. The X-Man usually kept her telepathy open to the rest of her team during a fight.  
  
_Yeah,_ responded Jean, obviously still concentrating on grasping the enemy with her telekinesis.  
  
_Could you levitate you an' Kitty outta the way so I can have a crack at this?_  
  
A wave of telepathic surprise shot in her direction. _Are you sure you can handle it?_  
  
_Almost,_ she thought, then watched with quiet shock as Jean followed her lead. Siezing her opportunity before the green and white blur realized that he wasn't circling anyone, Greta held her hands in front of her, in the shape of a short cylinder, and concentrated her powers. Then she let go.  
  
"Whoaaaa!" Quicksilver went flying towards a wall. Jean took control at this point by grabbing him with her telekinesis, then knocking him out with her mind. He slumped to the floor and the trio turned their minds to other matters.  
  
The remaining members of either team were battling as follows: Nightcrawler was having a face-off, of sorts, with Avalanche, by clinging to the ceiling and trying to muddle him up. It wasn't working quite as well as he'd hoped, since as they watched he teleported into a corner and allowed Avalanche to shake him to floor with a strategically-placed tremor. Spyke was trying his best to do a number on Toad, but his opponent was so quick that his bone spikes were nearly always in the air *just* after Toad had jumped to a new position. Cyclops, meanwhile, was shooting full-powered optic blasts at Blob to no avail. Help was needed on all three fronts, obviously.  
  
"Shadowcat, you go help Nightcrawler," Jean ordered. Shadowcat nodded and phased through the floor. "Torr, you take care of Blob, and I'll go help Spyke. Got it?" Greta nodded, biting her lip, and ran to help Cyclops in his battle.  
  
She started her attack by throwing a couple quick blasts of pressure at their target, timing her shots to coincide with Cyclops's. It staggered him a little, but he roared and started to charge them again. They blasted him back and continued to shoot.  
  
  
  
Elsewhere on the battlefield, the phasing member of the X-Men had just popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, and hit Avalanche with a good kick to the kidney.  
  
And at the same time, Jean Gray had levitated over to float a few feet above the floor next to Spyke. He looked up at her, and they nodded simultaneously. Quicker than Toad could say "yo," Spyke shot out a spike at the wall-hopper, and Jean concentrated to guide it home. Unfortunately for them, Toad spotted this and began hopping even faster, forcing Jean to keep the spike chasing him around the room. Suddenly he turned and snatched the spike out of the air before Jean could stop him. And with deadly precision, he threw the projectile in the direction of its origin...  
  
  
  
Greta let a gigantic burst of energy out through her palms, and to her utter surprise, was able to maintain that level. Slowly but surely, she pushed Blob backwards towards the wall. Cyclops kept an eye (his only one) pointed squarely at the target, his hand still hovering over the controls of his visor. It was only when she had Blob pinned firmly against the wall that she heard the cry...  
  
  
  
"Watch out!" Jean shouted, but it was too late.  
  
  
  
Greta watched it as if it was in slow motion (Note: I know this is totally cliche, and I'm sorry). The bone spear swished cleanly through the air and slowly  
  
passed  
  
through  
  
Evan's  
  
midsection. (Note: Ooh, dramatic effects.)  
  
Greta stared in silent horror. It went straight through the right side of his abdomen, until it was a quarter of the way through and you could see the tip of it sticking out of his back. The acceleration carried him with it until the back of the spike pinned him to the floor. It was there that he slid back down the spike and Greta's world returned to normal speed.  
  
And it was then that she noticed she had let the pressure coming from her hands go slack. Not in enough time, though. Blob charged his former captor, and the last thing Greta saw was his massive hand descending over her head...then it was just black.  
  
***  
  
When Greta awoke, it was in her own bed with a pounding headache and a sackful of worries. Luckily, Ororo was right there to answer her questions.  
  
"Is Evan okay?" was the first thing out of her mouth.  
  
"He's fine," Ororo smiled.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"After you and Evan were knocked out the rest of the team fought as best as they could. The Brotherhood ran away soon after, though."  
  
"Wh-"  
  
"You have a concussion."  
  
Great didn't even pause. "Can I see Evan?"  
  
"He's asleep."  
  
"Can I see 'im?"  
  
Ororo looked thoughtfully at the girl. What had happened to that soft- spoken Greta that had charmed her way into their hearts? Smiling inwardly, she answered herself: she gained some confidence. She grew up - a little, she corrected herself. Just a little. She most definitely was *not* full grown as of yet. "Yes, you can see him," she answered finally. Greta moved to push herself out of bed. "But only if you go slowly. You're still healing."  
  
Seemingly ignoring her elder's advice, Greta shoved herself onto two feet, swaying a little, but then stepping firmly towards the door. Taking a deep breath, Ororo followed her down the hall, seeing the girl stride confidently for once. Her steps were determined - that is, until she reached the door of Evan's room. Here she paused, touching the doorframe above her head lightly.  
  
_He looks so peaceful when he's asleep. I guess I sorta do - *like* him, like Rogue said. Sorta._ She sighed, never removing her gaze from the sleeping form. _I hope he gets better soon._  
  
"He will," came a voice softly from behind her. Instead of starting like she would have done a month before, Greta turned her head curiously to see the Professor in the hallway. Ororo was looking at him, too. He held a plain, manila folder filled with papers in his hand. Holding it out to Greta, he said, "Here. This is for you."  
  
She took it warily. "What is it?"  
  
"It's what I've found on your past, Greta. What I dug up using Cerebro, that is." Here he cocked his head at her. "Perhaps you'd like to take it someplace private before you look at it?"  
  
"Professor," started Ororo, "Greta is still recovering from her concussion. Mild as it is, I don't want her to go through any emotional stress while she-"  
  
"Ororo," he gestured to Greta. She had that determined set in her jaw again that had, up until a few moments ago, never been seen on her face. The portfolio in her hands seemed to be the cause of it this time, however.  
  
Ororo's eyebrows knitted together, but she finally nodded. The look on her student's face clearly said what she intended to do. "All right," she sighed. "But do not say I didn't warn you."  
  
The eyes which had remained trained on the folder flashed upward at the Professor, and he nodded at her. The two watched her walk distractedly back to her room, after a final glance into Evan's.  
  
"We must be prepared," said the Professor.  
  
***  
  
Slowly sinking onto the bed, folder in hand, Greta trembled. What secrets about her past could this possibly reveal? What could the Professor have found about her past with so few resources and so little time? What had made her forget about her past to begin with, for that matter? With shaking digits, she lifted the flap of the manila portfolio.  
  
***  
  
::much evil laughter:: Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh, that's right! It's a cliffhanger! I love doing that! Actually, I much prefer continuing the chapter, but considering it's a school night, and way past the time I ought to go to bed, that's all you're getting. I will love you so much if you give me some constructive criticism, or, you know, just praise. And, yes, I am well aware that this chapter is very cliche, and sucks. But, hey, I wanted to continue with the story, and to do that, I had to write something! There ya go. Review, please. 


	16. Recovery and more trouble

Please, Allison! Call someone to cut through the duct tape, and for God's sake, eat something before you read this! Oh, and make sure you're sitting down....:)  
  
***  
  
...Just then, there was a gentle knock on the door. Greta looked up from the folder, startled. She had just begun to lift the top flap with her fingertips.  
  
"Who is it?" she called, after a deep, shaky breath.  
  
"Ororo," came a muffled voice through the door. "May I come in?"  
  
"Sure." Greta turned around to face the entryway, pushing the portfolio behind her on the bed.  
  
The door creaked open, and as soon as the white-haired mutant had uttered the words "Evan's awake," Greta had leapt out of her seat on the bed, all thoughts of her past forgotten.  
  
"C'n I see 'im?" She was too excited to fully enunciate her words. She almost didn't notice when Ororo chuckled at her, focusing only on the positive answer. "I thought you would want to be the first to know," Storm called after her as she sped down the hall. Catching herself, Greta slowed her pace down to relatively normal (the best she could manage under the circumstances), and poked her head through the gap between door and wall. Evan waved at her. She slipped through the doorway and crossed the space between them, sitting down in a folding chair beside the bed.  
  
"Are you-" _Well, duh, he's okay, y'idiot._ "Does it hurt?" Greta corrected herself.  
  
Evan seemed to be intently focused on her, apparently not seeing Ororo come to the door. Greta didn't notice, either. "It's not bad," he shrugged, smiling. _Maybe she does sorta like me after all,_ he thought hopefully. "Are you okay? I heard Blob gotcha."  
  
She bit her lip and looked down at the floor. "Yeah. 'Roro says it's a concussion, not so bad." Looking up at him again, she said, "I'm glad you're okay," then a light rosy tint came to her cheeks and she beat a hasty retreat out of the door. Ororo had a hard time avoiding her as she tore down the hall back to her room, but she managed, and soon entered Evan's room herself.  
  
"She's very shy, Evan," Ororo said, taking Greta's former seat. "You're lucky to have coaxed her that far out of her shell."  
  
"Yeah, she's sorta like a little kid, you know? Only...not," he blushed. "Why do you think she left so fast?"  
  
"I don't think - I know. The Professor has found some more about her past, so she's off to learn more about it." She gave him a look. "I'm sure we'll all be very supportive of her?"  
  
"Sure, Auntie O."  
  
"All right, then," she patted him on the shoulder, looking slightly amused. "I'll leave you here - with your thoughts." Evan caught her grin just as she was heading out the door, and smiled himself.  
  
"Yeah," he said aloud to the empty room. "My - thoughts."  
  
***  
  
Greta paused when she got to her room once again, waiting by the newly-closed door and listening. She heard Ororo's light, graceful steps down the hall, and a few minutes later she heard Kitty stomping towards the kitchen. After that, nothing, so she headed directly to her bed and the folder waiting on it. This time, she wasn't so hesitant about opening it; in fact, she nearly tore the cover off, emboldened from her brief encounter with - she blushed at the thought of him - Evan. Biting her lip, she forced herself to focus on the contents of the folder, and was surprised when she read the first words on the top piece of paper.  
  
~BIRTH CERTIFICATE~ it read. _I have one?_ she thought in surprise. She looked up to the window, out at the clear blue sky, which she had forgotten until that moment. _Better save that for later,_ she turned the certificate over and looked to the next sheet of paper.  
  
~MEMO  
  
Office of Daniel Gallagher  
  
Concerning my daughter  
  
My daughter has recently lost a mother, and I must submit her to your care. Please look after her well.~  
  
There was a sloppy signature at the bottom, and Greta got the impression that Mr. Gallagher had not really been the one to sign it. _Daniel Gallagher is my...father?_ Again, the thought sprang to her mind unbidden: _I have one?_ She flipped this sheet to find a hastily-written letter underneath, scrawled in a strange, pointed handwriting.  
  
~Mr. Gallagher  
  
You have not sent your daughter to a safe place. The Haven for Lost Children is not all it appears to be, in fact, it is very much less than what it appears to be. I tried to get your daughter out before it was too late for her, but she seems to have taken care of it herself, by running away. The police are out searching for her, and I have informed them not to return her to The Haven for Lost Children, which is in the process of being shut down. They are guilty of many horrific crimes, here, and I have found the real name of one of the worst people I have ever encountered. It's~ here there was an unidentifiable scribble. Most of the letter was scribbled, but this was the only word Greta couldn't quite make out. ~Needless to say, I have not been affiliated with The Haven for Lost Children for some time, having been fired two years ago. I live nearby, however, and I am ashamed to have not stopped these activities earlier. I am sure your child will be found safe, Mr. Gallagher, but the police will need further notice on where to send her when located. Please respond.~  
  
There was a return address written beneath the letter, and a name was written: Ida Barnaby. Eyebrows raised, Greta bit her lip and turned this paper over to view the next - there were only two more remaining in the envelope, and they were stapled together.  
  
~New York Police Department  
  
MISSING PERSONS REPORT~ was on the header of the first sheet. It was filled out with a blocky sort of handwriting in blue pen. Again, Greta couldn't read the name scribbled at the top of the page.  
  
~Eyes _ brown --- Hair _ shoulder length, brown --- Build _ slight --- Age _ 6 1/2 --- Reported by _ Ida Barnaby, neighbor  
  
Missing from _ The Haven for Lost Children, filed for child abuse --- Notes _ Mother killed two years ago, checked in by father, Daniel Gallagher, unable to care for child. Second child missing from The Haven for Lost Children.  
  
Filed by _ Lieutenant Edgar Johnson, Central Branch~  
  
Greta flipped to the last page in the envelope, stapled to the back of the missing persons report. There, printed out cheaply, was a headshot of a little girl: her. She gasped, lifting the paper, and folding the first page of the report behind it. Brown hair, brown eyes...the eyes were hollow- looking, empty. The girl was thin, she looked like a refugee from a starving country, and she had a slight smile on her face, like someone had told her to pose prettily for the camera. She was wearing a pretty purple shirt, it had matching ruffles on it. _Me. That's me._  
  
Grasping the picture tightly, Greta raced for the mirror, and held up the photo next to her own face. She smiled slightly, and....  
  
Same hollow-looking eyes. Same forced smile. Same build - thin, waif- looking. _Oh, geez._ Without even realizing she had crossed the room again, Greta sank down onto her bed. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly for a minute, then realized with a start she still hadn't looked at the birth certificate. Moving almost frantically, she shuffled through the papers and uncovered the green slip.  
  
~BIRTH CERTIFICATE  
  
Name, last, first _ Gallagher, Edmona ---  
  
Mother's maiden name, last, first _ Schuster, Marie ---  
  
Father's name, last, first _ Gallagher, Daniel ---  
  
Date of birth - ~ _Oh, God. Oh, God._ Someone had written down in the corner of the paper: Mona.  
  
Mona.  
  
She felt the exact instant when the rage took over. Blind. Rage. Mixed with a twinge of hurt. Just enough to -  
  
She tore down the hallway, palms out in front of her, blankly using pressure to throw everything out of her way. It wasn't a conscious decision as to where she was going, but she was going somewhere, and she was going to smash everything ahead of her to get there.  
  
Too bad Evan chose that precise moment to stick his head out of his doorway.  
  
He had been trying to do his homework, but was too distracted by the thought of that blush on Greta's face when she had left, when suddenly he heard the crashing noises in the hallway. Hauling himself out of bed, and wincing in pain at the bandaged part of his abdomen, he stumbled across the floor to the door to see what was going on. That was when he stuck his head out of the doorway - right into the path of Greta's pressure powers.  
  
CRACK! And he was lying on the floor, groaning in pain once again. But not for long. Pushing himself off the floor as soon as possible, he ran as fast as he could in Greta's wake.  
  
***  
  
Another chapter done! ::much rejoicing:: I hope you enjoyed! There will be more if you review...want to see what happens next? Oh, and if you figured out what happened in Greta/Mona's past, please drop a line and I'll tell you if you're right. 


End file.
